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SHE HAD DISCOVERED THE CAPTAIN 





POLLY. THE GRINGO 

tS STOF^ FOR^ 

GIRI.S 


^EVErLrYN 

RAYMOND 

K c^uihor of 
**A Quaker Maideit*' 
“The Whirligig .Vc 



//iuatrAi&d 4>^ 

AUCE STEWART SAYLOR 


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t Publishing Compatiy 

PHILAPE LPHIA 

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COPY S. 

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Copyright 1906 by The Penn Publishing Company 



Polly, The Gringo 


Contents 


CHAP, 

I One New Year Long Ago .... 7 

II By the Morning’s Stage 23 

III When the Night Came Down ... 43 

IV In the Straits 62 

V Arrivals 81 

VI An Evening’s Entertainment . . . loi 

VII The Rodeo 

VIII A Strange Reunion 139 

IX The Merienda 160 

X From Peril to Sanctuary .... 180 

XI A Long Letter Home 198 

XII Natural Tears and Mysterious 

Laughter 219 

XIII The Senora’s Plan 237 

XIV Where is Captain Pancoast . . . . 258 

XV On an Unfamiliar Plain 278 

XVI Rancho Soledad 296 

XVII How IT ALL Came Right 313 


3 



Illustrations 


PAGE 

She had Discovered the Captain . . . Frontispiece 


An Arrow Struck Her in the Shoulder . 

. . 79 

Inez Drew Her Friend Into the Salon . . 

. . 125^ 

** Look Roland ! Oh, Look,” She Cried . . 

• • 179 

*'Gold to Gold! ” He Finished, Gallantly 

. . 252 . 

A Wounded Pelican, Lying on the Sand . . 

• • 27s 

Father ! Father I Wake up ! Tve Come . . . 

. . 321 ' 


Polly the Gringo. 




Polly, the Gringo 


CHAPTER I 

ONE NEW YEAR LONG AGO 

“ It will be a heart-break for your girl, 
brother Hiram,” expostulated Aunt Mercy, 
with a catch in her voice. Brushing a trouble- 
some mist from her eyes she looked across at 
Roland leaning against the mantel for sup- 
port. He was flushed, eager, trembling, and 
half-incredulous that the dream of his young 
life was really to come true. 

Upon the opposite side of the wide hearth sat 
Captain Hiram Pancoast, master of the good 
ship Columbia, that day riding at anchor 
in Portland harbor. Though this old farm- 
house on a New England hillside had been 
his boyhood^s home and he had loved it, the 
active man had already tired of its quietude and 
longed to be away. A half-day had sufficed 
for the interchange of family news and gossip 
between his widowed sister, Mercy Hallock, 
7 


8 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

and himself, and five minutes had answered 
for the passage of a comfortable sum of money 
from his fat wallet to her slender one. He 
tarried for but one other meeting and, while 
waiting, had announced the fact which so dis- 
turbed his hearers. 

'' On the third of January, the day after to- 
morrow, we sail for California, and Roland 
will go with me. He shall have a chance to 
make a man of himself. 

Captain Hiram was a person of decision. 
None of his kin dreamed of thwarting his 
will, nor did the widow now ; though in jus- 
tice to one long dead she feebly protested : 

Margaret, your wife and his mother, meant 
to make a minister, or lawyer, or maybe doctor 
of him. She looked higher than having him 
a mere sailor or trader.’^ 

A shadow fell across the seaman^s bronzed 
face, but it quickly lifted, and a habitual cheer- 
fulness took its place. There was no sign of 
wavering as he again remarked : 

We sail on the third. He can stay here 
until to-morrow afternoon, then take stage to 
Portland and the ^ Snug Haven ^ tavern. I’ll 
be there to meet him and take him aboard.” 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 


9 


To-morrow I So soon ! ’’ exclaimed Ro- 
land, speaking for the first time since he 
heard his father’s plan for him. 

So soon ? ” echoed Aunt Mercy, in dis- 
may. Why, his things aren’t ready, and 
I can’t get them so in that short while. I’m 
only on his fifth pair of long stockings, and 

as for short socks You can’t really 

mean it, Hiram, not so quick ! ” 

Captain Pancoast laughed in a hearty fash- 
ion that seemed to shake the low-raftered 
kitchen and set the polished brasses on the 
dresser a-rattle. Then he rose and swung across 
to the small-paned window to look out upon a 
most forbidding landscape. At least, it had 
grown forbidding to him now, accustomed as 
he was, during later years, to scenes far differ- 
ent. Yet something stirred at his heart as he 
gazed upon the familiar spot, which had 
changed not at all since his boyhood when he 
had loved it, as Roland loved it now, and yet 
had longed to leave it, even as Roland did. 

With a curious mingling of emotions the 
lad joined his father and also gazed at the 
darkening landscape. He realized that he 
might never again see the sun go down be- 


lo POLLY, THE GRINGO 

hind the mighty Rock which gave the farm 
its name and yet he was glad, so glad, to be 
going. Laying his hand affectionately upon 
the Captain’s shoulder, he asked : 

Is there anything like this in California, 
father?” 

‘‘Thank fortune, no. And I was just won- 
dering how four generations of our people 
ever managed to grub a living out of that 
boulder-strewn slope. Why, where you’re 

going But, there ! No use in talking- 

I’ll leave you to see for yourself. It’s a pity 
your Aunt Mercy is so set in her ways ! Else 
I’d transplant her also to a valley I know 
and see her grow young again. Yet no Pan- 
coasts, even the women of the family, ever 
said ‘no’ when they meant ‘yes,’ and she’s 
true to her race. But, hello ! There’s a tidy 
craft heaving in sight. It makes the frozen 
hillside look almost gay. One of the neigh- 
bors, Roland ? ” 

The boy turned an astonished face at the 
question. Though it was five years since the 
seaman’s last visit, it was amazing that he 
shouldn’t recognize his own child. To the 
brother the sister appeared just as she always 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 1 1 

had, though, evidently, to her own father she 
was a stranger. This made Roland look again, 
as if with new eyes, at the girl approaching, 
while something like a spasm clutched his 
throat. Yes, that was Polly, his sister, his 
other self, and he was going away from her 
forever, maybe. With a gesture of dismay, 
unnoticed by his father, he laid his arm against 
the window-frame and dropped his face upon 
it. 

Polly came steadily on over the rough, icy 
hill-road, which was uncommonly free from 
snow for a New England midwinter, and there- 
fore bitterly bleak and uninviting. The Cap- 
tain had hoped there might be sleighing for 
his brief visit and had anticipated this pleas- 
ure, unknown for years. His disappointment 
in the trivial matter may have been one rea- 
son for shortening his stay, since he was a 
man who felt he must have whatever he de- 
sired and have it at once. He had been 
rather cross — till Polly came. 

She entered with a laugh and an inter- 
rupted song, pausing to pat Towser on the 
way and to caress a toddling kitten over 
which she had stumbled. She brought the 


12 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 

freshness of outdoors with her, and her scarlet 
cloak seemed to lighten the dim kitchen like 
a flame. 

She held up to view a paper parcel and 
shook it gayly. 

Such good times as we’ll have with these, 
Aunt Mercy ! ” she exclaimed. I wish Ro- 
land was here this minute. Miss Brown and 
I stayed after school and collected all these 
enigmas, puzzles, rebuses, and things, from a 
heap of old magazines she found. She was 
so kind ; and she hopes it may rouse Roland’s 
interest in figures. He’s so clever that if he 

only would study the least little bit 

Where is he ? Do you know ? ” 

Mrs. Hallock nodded to the end of the 
great room, and Polly’s gaze followed her 
suggestion. Then in an instant she had 
discovered the Captain, and had reached 
his side, to half-smother him with loving 
embraces. 

Father ! My father ! My precious sailor 
father, come home at last ! Oh ! how good, 
how good ! ” 

Then she stepped back, still holding fast 
his great hands, and the pair so long sepa- 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 13 

rated gazed critically into each other's faces. 
Satisfied, at length cried Polly : 

Oh ! you splendid Captain-father ! 
You're just exactly as I remember you — 
only more so ! Your hair hasn’t grayed a 
bit, while — just look at Aunt Mercy's curls! 
Snow white, almost, yet she not fifty. And 
let me tell you what old Aunt Winters says : 
‘ Mercy Hallock's a deal prettier now she's 
ripe than she was when she was green.' And 
her dear hair is just lovely, I think, though I'm 
glad yours stays brown. At last you've come 
for good, haven't you ? " 

I hope it's for good, little daughter, 
though it’s not to stay.” 

Polly's face clouded. It was the dream of 
her life to have her father living on the old 
farm, as it was that of Roland's to be else- 
where, yet she had hardly expected a favor- 
able answer to her question. Captain Hiram 
Pancoast looked so young, in the light of the 
lamps which his sister now provided, that she 
realized he would not be content settled 
down ” ; not as yet. The only other sea cap- 
tain whom she knew was Captain Silas Evans, 
a toothless octogenarian, once skipper of a 


14 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

whaling vessel, now marooned ’’ — as he 
termed it — on an adjoining farmstead, where 
the most exciting adventures left him were the 
hunting of hens’ eggs and his weekly ride to 
church. 

Well, if it’s not to stay for always, I hope it 
is for a long, long time. I hope the Columbia 
will need a lot of ^ overhauling,’ and keep you 
this side the world all winter, at least,” she 
continued, pushing a Pilgrim rocker to the 
fireside and motioning him to take it, while 
she drew her own stool beside it, determined 
to make the most of the present hour. In a 
few minutes, if Martha Simmons, the woman 
who helped ” at Rock Acre, did not return 
from her trip villageward, she would have to 
assist in the supper-getting ; but these few 
minutes were rightly her own, as she saw by 
a glance at the old clock. 

However, all household duties were pres- 
ently banished from mind. As the captain 
settled his mighty bulk in the wide rocker he 
laid his hand on Polly’s head, and shook his 
own negatively. All at once it seemed to him 
that Rock Acre was a desirable spot in which 
to tarry for a season, and it was this sunshiny 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 15 

girl beside him who had altered his opinion. 
But it was not to be, and best tell her so with- 
out delay. 

No, child, not all winter, nor even all 
night. The team that fetched me up here 
will start back for town at nine o’clock. The 
ship didn’t need much repairing, and I’ve 
’tended to that first. I’ve just run up to say, 
‘ How-de-do,’ and ' Adios,’ or ‘ Good-bye.’ 
I’ve lived ’mongst the Californians so long 
now, I speak their way oftenest. Roland can 
come down on the stage, to-morrow, as I told 
your Aunt Mercy, and we sail the next 
morning.” 

A sudden fear clutched at Polly’s heart, but 
she put it aside, asking : 

“ Are you going to let brother travel down 
there to see you off? How delightful for him 
— if he’s strong enough.” 

‘‘ Roland sails with me. But what is that 
about strength ? Isn’t the boy well ? ” 

Polly couldn’t answer. The grip, on her 
heart had grown so tight that she could 
hardly breathe, and she passed her father’s 
question on for Aunt Mercy to answer if she 
chose, while in her own ears went ringing and 


i6 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

ringing the plain declaration : “ Roland sails 
with me.” 

Mrs. Hallock interposed, keeping a watch- 
ful, sympathetic eye upon Polly’s white face : 

Well, I don’t know that I can call him 
sick, exactly. But he — he coughs a good 
deal. More’n I wish he did, and I’ve tried 
all sorts of things to cure him. He’s too 
much like Margaret, in constitution, to stand 
the cold without suffering. That’s why he 
cares so little for his books — or for most 
things. In the winter time, Polly and I 
generally spare him all we can.” 

Polly said nothing, but a reflection of her 
own fear now showed in her father’s face. 
Roland coughed ! The thought held a certain 
terror in it for this New Englander, as it has 
for many another. Roland’s mother, also, 
had coughed her way into her grave, and a 
poignant anxiety lest the son was already fol- 
lowing her seized the father. But he rallied 
his courage and remarked : 

‘‘ Then I have come in the very nick of time ! 
From his few letters I judged the lad had no 
snap, no gumption ; but, maybe, all that came 
from his state of health. Well, California 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 


17 

will cure him. It’s only the tough old knots, 
like you and me, Mercy, can stand this 
climate.” 

Mrs. Hallock swung the kettle round upon 
the crane. She still disdained a cook stove, 
using her hearth fire and Dutch oven ” for 
all culinary operations. She had just heard 
Martha come into the back kitchen and was 
already considering how fine a supper she 
could prepare, assisted by that capable helper. 
She answered absently : 

“ Yes, we can stand it. We’re chips of the 
old block and our race has been long-lived. 
If father hadn’t been killed by the fall of that 

tree he’d been living now, and mother 

No, no, Polly ! You needn’t do a hand’s turn 
whilst your father’s here. Hunt up Roland 
— I don’t see where he’s slipped to — I hope 
nowhere in the cold — and you three just sit 
and visit. Martha and me ’ll do everything 
and do it quick. Nine o’clock will be here 
before we know it, seems if! ” 

She was now far more intent upon the bis- 
cuit to be baked in the tin kitchen ” before 
the fire than upon the approaching separation 
of the children she had reared. A notable 


1 8 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

housewife, she had always a store of good 
things in her larder ; and by the time the bis- 
cuits were ready a fat chicken pie had been 
re-heated in the oven ; tarts and preserves had 
been set out on the old dresser ; coffee “ set- 
tled with the freshest of eggs and trimmed 
with the richest of cream had sent its aroma 
through the great room ; potatoes had sizzled 
to a yellow-brown in the big “ spider ; and 
many other dishes for which Hiram had once 
a predilection had appeared as if by magic to 
grace his one home-feast. 

Then Mercy gave the invitation to “set 
up,^’ and Martha called the absent Roland to 
“ Come to supper, Roly ! ” the housemistress 
meanwhile bewailing the fact that she had no 
turkey, and inclined to blame the seaman for 
his home-coming without warning. 

“ Being New Year’s, so, I suppose I’d ought 
to have had one, anyway. But we don’t pay 
much attention to holidays ’round Woodley. 

School kept ‘ in ’ just as usual and Well, 

you’ll just have to take ^ pot luck.’ Martha, 
if you’ll please get some that fruit cake out the 
farthest stone crock — the loaf I baked when 
you was home, five years ago, Hiram — I 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 19 

guess everything's ready and we may as well 
begin." 

Roland had sauntered to his place, with 
that languid motion his father had attributed 
to indolence, but which now pained the ob- 
server as a sign of physical frailty ; and all 
was ready," indeed, except — appetite. That 
was strangely wanting. The Captain looked 
over the loaded table, recognized many old 
favorites among the viands, knew that in or- 
dinary he could have done full justice to all, 
and marveled that he was not hungry. Ro- 
land's desires were always capricious and to- 
night nobody urged him. Aunt Mercy was 
troubled that her fine fare failed of due ap- 
preciation and spent her time in proffering 
first one dish, then another, only to have each 
declined. Martha, alone, did ample service 
with knife and fork, knowing that this was 
not the every-day household diet. As for poor 
Polly, commonly as brisk with her eating as 
her tongue, she was now both silent and in- 
different ; sitting with eyes riveted upon her 
brother's face and scarcely hearing the few 
comments of the others. 

When her father was unable to longer 


20 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 


endure the sight of her misery, he de- 
manded : 

Well, little daughter ! Is this all the sun- 
shine you can give me to carry on my long 
voyage t’other side the world ? Cheer up, my 
lass ! Cheer up, and cheer the rest with you. 
What? Look so glum, just because a great 
strapping fellow like Roland, yon, is going to 
have the chance of his life ? By the time he’s 
half-way to the Straits he’ll forget he ever had 
a cough, or, maybe, a doting little sister. It’s 
not a funeral we’ve on hand, but a ‘ hail fellow 
well met,’ and a ^ good voyage, mates ! ’ Why, 
if all goes well, who knows but I may make 
another tack around this coast, some fine day, 
and ship a first-class passenger named Polly ? 
Would you like that, my maid ? Think you 
could live thousands of miles away from Rock 
Acre and the good aunt who’s brought you up?” 

For the first time something like a gleam of 
hope irradiated the desolateness of Polly’s 
mobile face. For the last hour she had not 
seemed nor even looked like herself, but now 
she turned toward the Captain and asked in a 
low, distinct voice : 

“Do you mean that, father? May I go? 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 21 

Oh I say that I may go now, please — please — 
please ! 

Roland leaned forward, eagerly, but the 
sailor’s mind had gained another idea. It 
was that his boy had been petted into inva- 
lidism and that the best thing for both his 
children was to separate them, and completely. 

Suddenly, there was the sound of wheels 
on the driveway without and he was glad of 
this excuse to evade an answer, as, rising he 
went to the door and called to somebody out- 
side : 

“ That you, driver ? ” 

Aye, aye, Cap’n ! ” 

“ Well, you’re ahead of time, but that’s all 
right. When a man has to be hung as well 
get the job over with. Where’s my togs? 
Good-bye, Mercy. Keep your eye on the 
north star and sail by her straight. Good- 
bye, Martha, girl, keep your skipper’s sails 
a-flyin’ and everything shipshape. Roland, 
to-morrow at stage-time I’ll meet you. Wrap 
up for the trip and mighty soon after I’ll sail 
you into warm waters. Polly — little Polly ! 
God bless you ! Some day — some day — you, 
too, shall come I ” 


22 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Though she clung to him in desperation, 
mutely pleading an answer to her prayer to 
be taken then and there, and though his own 
eyes dimmed and his heart ached at sight of 
her misery, he put her firmly aside, hurried 
out of the house and slammed its door behind 
him. 

For a moment after her father’s departure 
Polly, or Margaret, Pancoast stood motionless 
and absorbed in her own thoughts. Then a 
sudden change came over her and turning to- 
ward her aunt she asked, apparently as cheer- 
ful as ever : 

Now, auntie, what can I do to help get 
him ready ? ” 


CHAPTER II 


BY THE MOKNING's STAGE 

SuEPRiSED^ yet pleased that the girl was 
putting so brave a face on the matter, Mrs. 
Hallock answered, gently : 

No, dear, don’t you worry. We’ll do no 
packing to-night. I shall be up early and 
will have all done before stage time. I always 
like to ‘ sleep ’ on any trouble, you know, and 
my morning thoughts are my clear ones. It'll 
come to me the minute I wake just what I 
should, or should not put in his trunk. You 
and Roland go to bed. Good-night.” 

With unusual promptness Polly lighted her 
bedroom candle and started for the stairs. On 
account of its greater warmth, her brother oc- 
cupied a room opening off this living-room, 
but the sister’s chamber was wholly unwarmed. 
She had to break the ice in her pitcher of a 
morning, before she could bathe, and more 
than once the water had frozen so solidly that 
the pitcher had cracked in twain. Naturally, 
she lingered below stairs as long as possible, 
23 


24 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

shrinking from the cold above ; yet, to-night, 
she not only hastened her good-nights but 
remained out of bed so long that her aunt, 
hearing her footsteps overhead, remarked to 
Martha : 

What can that child be doing, up in that 
chilly place so long ! She’ll about freeze and, 
at least, take a dreadful cold. She ought to 
be asleep. Just open the stair door and tell 
her I say so, please.” 

So Martha called upward : 

“ Say, Polly ! Mis’ Hallock, she says get 
right into them blankets to oncet, ’fore you 
catch your never-get-over-it. Hear ? ” 

Yes, Martha, I hear. I’m just ready. 
Good-night, good-night, everybody. Please 
don’t let me oversleep in the morning.” 

Then the stair door closed and there was 
quiet in the chamber overhead. Meanwhile, 
the scarcely tasted supper was thriftily be- 
stowed in cupboard and pantry, the “ best 
dishes ” carefully washed and put away, lights 
extinguished, and Aunt Mercy and Martha 
sought their own repose. Yet there was little 
sleep that night for any one beneath the farm- 
house roof. Even Jonathan Wilson, the hired 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 


25 


man, who was rarely moved by any event, 
found himself restless over the excitement of 
the Captain's brief visit and Roland's depar- 
ture. Like everybody else on the place he was 
fond of the lad and had done his own share 
of that pampering which the boy's father had 
deplored. In return, Roland had written for 
him the few letters Jonathan needed sent to 
his kinsfolk, had gone fishing with him on an 
occasional holiday, and been a patient sym- 
pathiser with the old fellow's various “ com- 
plaints." It was Roland who had sent away 
for all the nostrums recommended by the 
many almanacs obtained at the one store of 
the village, nor did the kindly lad ever object 
to the farmer's waste of substance upon the 
same. Whereas, at every new bottle which 
Jonathan placed on the kitchen shelf. Aunt 
Mercy would remonstrate, and assure the de- 
luded purchaser that : 

You're just slow-killing yourself with 
drugs, Jonathan Wilson, and I wish you'd 
quit. I've no mind to have anybody commit 
that sort of suicide on these premises, and I'd 
hate to see you taken off to the poor-farm 
when your working days are over, just because 


26 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

youVe spent the wages you’d ought to save on 
patent medicines. It’s the ' hypo ’ ails you — 
nothing else.” 

Roland never talked in that manner. He 
always assured the “ sufferer ” that each and 
every remedy procured was a cure-all, else 
people wouldn’t waste good money in adver- 
tising it ; that Jonathan’s cash was his own 
and that nobody save himself had any au- 
thority as to its spending. Even now there 
was a wonderful picture on Jonathan’s table, 
illustrating the marvelous powers of a cer- 
tain “ Rheumasciaticolyptol,” for which the 
farmer had counted out the price and in- 
tended Roland should write for on the 
very morrow. Now who would serve him in 
the matter ? 

Not Polly, who sniffed at his com- 
plaints,” saying that any man who could 
dispose of the amount of food Jonathan did 
“ must be a well person,” when she knew all 
the time — ’cause he’d told her often enough 
— that his back ached him fit to split the 
whole endurin’ time, and if he hadn’t got the 
lumbager, he’d like to know who in reason 
had I ” Not Mrs. Hallock, who would simply 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 27 

refuse. Not Martha, who wasn’t clever with 
the pen ; and, certainly, not the storekeeper, 
who had drugs of his own to sell. The more 
difficult of attainment the “ Rheumasciatico- 
lyptol ” became the more Jonathan wanted it 
and the longer he lay awake pondering how 
the treasure might be secured ; so it was really 
that many syllabled medicine which set things 
topsyturvy in that well-ordered household on 
a day when, if ever, calmness and an early 
activity were desirable. 

This way it was. Having tossed all night, 
restless and wakeful, Jonathan at length fell 
sound asleep, and failed to wake at his usual 
hour of five o’clock. Martha habitually 
waited for him to descend and put fresh wood 
on the fire before she stirred ; and Aunt 
Mercy waited until Martha began to cook the 
breakfast before she arose. This was, she felt 
“ a lazy habit,” but one expressly commanded 
by her good brother who was so generous to 
her and whom she dared not disobey ; and 
though in ordinary even she was up before 
daylight she considered that she was wasting 
half her lifetime in idleness.” 

Polly usually appeared in time for the 


28 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

morning meal ; and Roland — when he could 
no longer find excuse for delay. 

It was six o’clock on that memorable second 
of January when Jonathan stumbled down the 
stairs, feeling the veriest of culprits, and 
wondering how he should ever make up that 
hour lost in oversleeping. With a deal more 
noise than ordinary, just because he so wished 
to be extra quiet, he fell over a chair, knocked 
his milk-pail off the rack, and in other ways so 
fully notified the family that he was ‘‘up” and 
it was time others were, that Aunt Mercy and 
Martha both sprang to their feet in dismay. 
Then the latter glanced at the clock, holding 
a lighted candle before its truthful face and 
indignantly denying its statement of the hour. 

“ Goodness ! Mis’ Hallock, you must ha’ for- 
got to wind ‘ Grandpa ’ last Sabbath ! He’s 
gained much as a hull hour, ’cause Jonathan 
he just went clatterin’ out, makin’ noise 
enough to wake the dead.” 

Aunt Mercy tiptoed out to see for herself, 
“ sh-h-ing ” her hand-maid in a sibilant 
whisper not to disturb “ Roly ” in his adjoin- 
ing room. But she answered below her breath, 
yet with utmost conviction : 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 


29 


“ Tisn’t ^ Grandpa ^ to blame, it’s us. He’s 
kept the time exact to a minute ever since 
he set out to do it more’n a hundred years ago 
and he’s not beginning any foolishness at this 
late day. All is, we’ll have to hurry like 
lightning to get ’round. That stage comes at 
nine, for Hiram wouldn’t let me send the 
trunk down to the store where it starts from. 
He said he’d rather pay extra than make so 
much trouble. He’s free with his money, 
Hiram is, and alwaj^s was. Polly is like him, 
but Roland — well, he doesn’t care enough for 
it even to be generous. Dear boy ! How I 
shall miss him. And I’d best leave you to do 
everything about breakfast, but make it a 
good one. I’ll hurry and pack and we’ll let 
the children sleep till the last minute. My 
heart ! I do dread their parting. It will 
about kill them both, for no brother and 
sister ever loved each other as they do, 
seems if.” 

Out in the barn, at this moment, Jonathan 
was blinking and brushing his eyes as though 
he could not believe what they told him. 
For there, fully dressed, was Polly, busily 
grooming old Kate, whose manger was un- 


30 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

duly heaped with hay and who was munch- 
ing with surprised satisfaction a larger sup- 
ply of oats than she had ever received at one 
feed/^ 

“ For land’s sake ! What — why — I thought 
the barn was a-fire — how happens — where’d 
you get Mis’ Hallock’s best lantern? Un- 
safe ” 

“ It’s all right, Jonathan. I had to have a 
light, but I’ve been careful. How much, how 
many, oats would you take with you for an 
all-day’s ride ? ” 

Not a thimbleful ! Wouldn’t be such a 
goose as to take an all-day’s ride, even in the 
summer time, let alone January weather. 
What you up before me doing my work for ? 
Do you know you’ve give Kate oats enough 
already, in this one feed, to last her three- 
four days ? You better run in and help your 
aunt. We’ve all overslept, this morning.” 

But I mean it. Tell me, please. I don’t 
want to hinder your work, far less do it my- 
self. But I want to know. Is this bag big 
enough ? It’s twenty miles to Portland, isn’t 
it?” 

“ It’s twenty-odd goin’ down, but it’s forty- 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 31 

thousand, seems if, coming up. Why ? What 
fer? You haven’t hired Kate to the stage 
driver, have you?” demanded the hired man, 
growing facetious in his relief from fear of the 
barn’s burning. ‘‘ She’s no colt, Kate isn’t. 
She’s a good many years older’n you, an’ it’s 
time she was fit for something besides eating 
her head off in her stall. But, Polly, go in 
about your own affairs. It’s dreadful dis- 
tractin’ to a man, feeble as I am, to have girls 
chatterin’ round whilst I’m doin’ my chores. 
It’s too cold, too. You ain’t used to such 
early risin’.” 

Oh ! yes, I am, Jonathan. You’re not 
used to such late rising, you mean. The nov- 
elty is making you a — a trifle sharp, you 
know, and I don’t want you to be anything 
but lovely this last morning.” 

Then and there, to the amazement of the 
farmer, the girl darted around to the rear of 
the stall where he stood and flung her arms 
about his neck, begging : 

“ You’ll be good to everything on this dear 
old place, won’t you, Jonathan? You’ll be 
sure Aunt Mercy has everything she needs 
brought from the village and not let her get 


32 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

cold running around the fields looking after 
things. Oh ! if a body could only make two 
of themselves, so as to be in two places at 
once, how splendid that would be ! And if 
ever I’ve hurt your feelings, teasing you about 
your appetite or your ^ complaints,’ you’ll for- 
give it, won’t you? We’ve lived together so 

long Why, I can’t remember Rock Acre 

without you, Jonathan. And I want to find 
you here, just the same faithful old grumbler 
when I come back. For I shall come back. 
I shouldn’t go if I thought I wouldn’t. Now, 
a last nice thing to do for me, please. You 
put into a bag, and fasten it tight, just as 
much food as Kate ought to have for a trip to 
Portland and write on a scrap of paper when 
and where she is to feed. I know about not 
watering when she’s warm and all that ; and 
now I’m going in.” 

Away sped the girl, leaving Jonathan so 
perplexed that he had to sit down on his 
milk-pail to ponder the matter. Finally, he 
decided that grief at parting with Roland had 
quite turned Polly’s head. 

‘‘ That’s the A and Izzard of it, sure. If 
she was in her reg’lar senses she’d never get 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 


33 


up ’fore she’s called and come out here. Not 
even to feed old Kate, who’s her own property, 
so far forth as I understand it. Martha said, 
yesterday, that Cap’n Hiram wouldn’t have 
her summonsed from school, even short as he 
meant to stay, ’cause he knew she’d hate to 
have Roly go. But I ’low he came far short the 
truth. Her head is certainly turned, and it’s 
a pity, for she’s a real likely creatur’, Polly 
is. I shan’t say a word to Mis’ Hallock, 
though, of the child’s queer actions. ’Twould 
only worry the good soul, and she’s got her 
own troubles to bear. We all have. White- 
face ! Get over, can’t ye ? Get over, I tell 
ye!” 

Whereupon Whiteface meekly stepped to 
the furthest limit of her stall, while Jonathan 
deposited his milking-stool beside her and be- 
gan his daily tasks. 

Meanwhile, in the great kitchen, astonish- 
ment prevailed. In the first place, Polly — 
supposed to be still asleep — had come in from 
the barn smelling of hay, rosy of cheek, and 
sparkling of eye. Aunt Mercy had dreaded 
their moment of meeting, on that eventful 
morning, foreseeing the unhappiness of her 


34 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

beloved niece, her almost daughter, whom she 
had cared for from her birth. But, instead of 
sorrow, there was the utmost cheerfulness in 
the girhs manner. She was full of little jests 
and merry remarks, causing even dull-witted 
Martha to watch her as if wondering what 
next. 

Yet had either woman had more time for 
closer observation, she would have seen the 
jester grow suddenly serious as her eye fell 
upon this or that familiar object and her blue 
eyes fill with a suspicious moisture. The mois- 
ture never passed heyond the long, up-curling 
lashes nor Polly’s control, save once. Then 
she had slipped, unseen, into the dark, disused 
parlor, and groped her way to a corner “ what- 
not,” where reposed a pile of old-fashioned 
daguerreotypes — new-fashioned they were 
then. By feeling she selected a certain one 
in an oval case, velvet covered, the finest of 
the lot. Holding it fast in both hands she 
bent her head above it and cried bitterly. 
Then she conquered her short-lived passion, 
dashed the tears from her eyes, thrust the case 
into her pocket, and returned to the living- 
room. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 35 

She reasoned thus : 

“After all, it is ours — Roland’s and mine — 
more than it is any other person’s. Our 
mother’s picture, the only thing we have to 
show us what she was like. It seems like 
stealing to take it without asking, yet — I dare 
not tell. If I say one word, hint a thing. 
Aunt Mercy will prevent me. She is so 
afraid of father’s anger that she’d even tie me, 
if there was no other way to stop me. She’s 
Pancoast, too, the same firm race as his, and 
never yields a thing she sets her will to. 
Well, I also, am Pancoast ; and nothing shall 
prevent my making this one effort. If he 

says ^ No,’ a second time But he cannot I 

He shall not ! He won’t wish to, when he un- 
derstands. He didn’t know, he didn’t begin 
to guess what Roland and I are to each other. 
We seem but halves of one life. We can’t 
exist without each other, and father merely 
did not know. If they’d sent for me to 
come from school I shouldn’t have had to go 
as I shall now, for I could have explained 
everything. But — there’s no help. No use.” 

Then, hearing Roland’s voice beyond the 
door she went swiftly to join him ; and 


36 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

though now all observed her slightly reddened 
eyelids, such a condition was a far more 
natural one than the previous gayety. When 
they drew near to table, Polly ate little, but 
Roland’s appetite was better than common. 
Delighted by this. Aunt Mercy plied him with 
all sorts of palatably unwholesome things and 
thus kept her attention away from his sister. 
Also, she was full of advice concerning his 
voyage, and especially in case of seasickness, 
till he laughingly protested : 

“ Don’t, Aunt Mercy ! You make me feel 
like a babe in arms, and you must take notice 
— to-day, I become a man ! Why, I’ve heard 
father say that, over in that California, the 
boys often marry at sixteen or seventeen ! and 
I’m almost as old, you know ! ” Here he shot 
a merry glance at his sister, who returned it 
with a little grimace and the assertion : 

They do that to get out of the army — the 
silly things ! I’d rather be a soldier than a 
bridegroom before I was half-grown. And as 
for seasickness. I’ll remember — I mean Ro- 
land will remember, that lemon juice is good. 
But how many times have you been seasick, 
you dear little farmer auntie? I thought 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 37 

you were afraid even of a rowboat on our 
quiet river, and a sailing vessel — I wonder 
what the Columbia is like ! I think I must 
have some of father’s liking for the sea, for it 
just sets me a-thrill to think of that beautiful 
ship scudding before a ^ spanking ’ breeze — a 
really nautical breeze always ‘ spanks,’ I be- 
lieve — picking up the waves like a good horse 

treading a smooth road Oh ! it must be 

fine!” 

“ Margaret Pan coast I How can you, how 
dare you go on so, just as our boy is — is — 
going— going ” 

Poor Aunt Mercy’s fortitude gave way en- 
tirely before the vivid picture Polly had pre- 
sented, and that seemingly careless maiden 
grew suddenly white and wan. When her 
doting aunt called her “ Margaret ” the times 
were surely out of joint, and she felt she had 
now grieved her guardian’s tender heart at the 
very moment when she would most gladly 
have brightened and comforted it. She 
swiftly left her place, and kneeling by Mrs. 
Hallock’s chair bestowed upon the bowed 
head and shoulders the caresses she had been 
yearning to give, yet for private reasons would 


38 PObLY, THE GRINGO 

not have dared to offer but under cover of this 
incident. 

Then Aunt Mercy lifted her tear-wet face 
and smiled forgivingly. 

“ That is all right, dear. We are both over- 
excited and scarcely know what we are doing. 
Hark ! I hear wheels ! Can it be the stage 
already, I wonder ! Have we delayed so long 
at table, or has it started earlier ? ’’ 

Nobody answered her, and nobody needed 
to. A queer, square, leather-covered vehicle 
had drawn up at the door, and its driver had 
stepped to the ground, swinging his arms and 
vigorously slapping himself as if already 
chilled by this first, short stage of his journey. 

Roland shuddered. He had vivid memo- 
ries of rides in such old time coaches, with 
their swaying, rocking motion, jolting the un- 
lucky passengers from front seat to back, and 
sometimes almost hanging them upon the 
strap which extended from door to door and 
formed a “ back ” for a middle seat. The 
smell of leather always made him ill, and he 
anticipated his full share of seasickness while 
still upon dry land. 

Oddly enough, trifles can usurp the place of 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 


39 


weightier matters ; and his anxiety whether 
he would have to ride backward almost 
deadened the pain of Roland’s parting from 
his old home and life. Hastily kissing his 
aunt, and even the faithful Martha, he turned 
for Polly — but she was not there. 

“ I — I guess she couldn’t bear to say good- 
bye, my boy I Don’t mind — don’t wait — let 
her get over it alone — it will be best — good- 
bye! Good-bye!” 

The little trunk had been swiftly bestowed 
in the rack behind, and with a last wave of 
his hand toward the red farmhouse, Roland 
Pancoast stepped into the capacious convey- 
ance and found himself its only occupant. 
Travelers were few at best, in that region : 
and, with a storm threatening, all who might 
have made the trip to Portland had remained 
at home. 

With her apron over her head. Aunt Mercy 
went in and shut the door. Already she was 
questioning herself, with her acute New Eng- 
land conscience, if she had ever and always 
done her full duty by the boy who was gone. 
Had there been sharp reprimands where gen- 
tleness might have won? Had there been 


40 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

neglect of his physical comfort, ever, even 
once and under the stress of household duties ? 
Should it be her lot to look upon his hand- 
some, dreamy face again ? 

Martha was also of New England but in- 
tensely practical ; yet she penetrated the emo- 
tions of her employer and remarked : 

“ Better quit thinkin’ and finish your break- 
fast, Mis’ Hallock. You haven’t et a bite, 
scarcely, and you’ve no call to blame yourself. 
Roland’s own mother would never have slaved 
for him as you have. Take another cup of 
coffee, now do. Hey? What’s that, Jonathan? 
Didn’t you get through, either? Hungry 
yet?” 

The hired man had reentered the house and 
was slowly turning over and over in his hands 
a bit of folded paper, as if puzzled what use 
to make of it. Though he was too stiff 
j’inted” to do his own writing he was fully 
able to read that of others. This note he had 
found pinned to the barn door, one at the rear 
of the building that gave upon a short-cut to 
the curving turnpike beyond. He had stepped 
to that door, the better to obtain a last view 
of the departing coach and its beloved occu- 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 41 

pant, and had thus promptly come upon the 
message plainly addressed to “ Mrs. Mercy 
Hallock,’^ but which Martha had hastily con- 
cluded was merely another “ quack medicine 
dockyment ; for, as Jonathan made no reply 
and continued so absorbed in his own reflec- 
tions, she snapped out : 

“ Don^t bring any more of that silly kind 
of letter ^round here, yet awhile. Mis’ Hal- 
lock, she can’t be worried by plumb foolish- 
ness, and I haven’t time to bother. Besides, 
I haven’t on my readin’ glasses and writin’s 
no good to me without them. Your medicine 
orders’ll keep, and I s’pose that’s another you 
badgered poor Roly to flx for you, just as he 
was goin’ away and all. Medicine ! Humph ! 
There ain’t but twenty-seven bottles of your 
doctorin’ stuff in the cupboard now and that 
ought to do you for one day — such a particu- 
lar day as this — at least. If you want some- 
thin’ more to eat, say so, and have done with 
it. Don’t stand twirling that paper as if you’d 
lost your wits. You give me the fidgets. Seen 
Polly ? I wonder where she went to ! She 
ought to try to eat, for I s’pose she’ll go to 
school just the same. Mis’ Hallock, did you 


42 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

notice whether Polly went out, or up-stairs ? 
And, oh ! dear ! If it ain't beginnin' to 
snow ! and I meant to wash some bed-spreads 
to-day. And the sheets and things off Roly's 
bed." 

Martha's tongue had run on, partly to di- 
vert her mistress, partly for the relief of her 
own overcharged heart, and wholly as a re- 
proof to the peculiar behavior of Jonathan 
who still stood in the same spot, his eyes upon 
the floor, his hands twirling the letter he 
dreaded to deliver, and a distressed perplexity 
upon his honest face. His housemate now 
jostled past him, giving him a significant 
nudge to recall his wandering thoughts, and 
opening the outer door, called : 

“ Polly ! Polly Pancoast ! Come right 
straight in and eat your breakfast ! " And 
when no answer came, exclaimed, in wonder : 

Why ! Where is Polly ? " 


CHAPTER III 


WHEN THE NIGHT CAME DOWN 

Well, I can’t make her hear, and I can’t 
keep the table standing all day for anybody. 
It’s snowing awful fast and come up terrible 
sudden, but likely there’s good blankets in the 
stage, so Roly won’t feel it much. I’ll put a 
plate of food down on the hearth to keep hot 
for Polly, ’cause I s’pose the poor little thing 
has had to go off by herself, somewhere, to 
have her cry out. She’ll feel the better for it, 
too. As for you, Jonathan Wilson, I wish you 
either would or wouldn’t. Wake up, man, 
and tell, if you know, where’s Polly ? ” 

Aunt Mercy had also risen and was now 
regarding the hired man with astonishment, 
wondering if it were grief at Roland’s going 
which had so disturbed him. Then as she 
was about to speak to him, he roused himself 
from his abstraction, remarking : 

“ You needn’t keep no breakfast warm for 
Polly Pancoast, Martha Simmons, and I’m 
guessin’ where she is, though I don’t for 
43 


44 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

surely know. This — this belongs to you, Mis^ 
Hallock.^^ 

A presentiment of trouble made Aunt 
Mercy turn pale as she extended her hand 
for the letter, and she sat down again rather 
suddenly, the better to control the tremulous- 
ness which seized her. The others in the 
room watched her critically, Martha with 
keen curiosity and Jonathan with compas- 
sion ; each certain of sharing in her news, 
since there were never any secrets in that 
simple, united household. The housemistress 
read the paper through once, twice, even a 
third time, and though there was consterna- 
tion in her face there was, also, anger. Fi- 
nally, she looked up and said : 

Listen, both of you, and advise me. Polly 
has run away. This is what she writes : 
^ Dearest Aunt Mercy : Please forgive me for 
doing this, but I had to go, and it was the 
only way. You would have stopped me if 
I had asked you. I have taken old Kate and 
shall ride her as far as the Corners, where the 
stage changes horses, and I shall keep right 
in sight of the coach till we both get there. 
Then I’ll leave Kate and ask somebody to 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 45 

send her home to you. She is mine and I 
make you a present of her if — if I don't have 
to come back. Father didn’t understand 
about Roland and me, and I had no chance 
to explain. I am going to ask him to take 

me, also, to California, and I think Oh ! 

he must say Yes ! ” My heart aches at 
thought of leaving you like this, and in a 
way you will think wrong, but it would be 
quite broken if I had to give up Roland. 
Don’t worry about me at all. I put on two 
dress skirts, this morning, and have tied the 
other waist and a change of underclothes in a 
bundle to the saddle. Kate will have plenty 
to eat, though Jonathan didn’t fill a bag with 
oats as I asked him. I have one dollar. I 
think that will pay my fare to Portland and 
then father will see to everything. I will 
send you a little note when I get there, and 
so good-bye, good-bye. You will hardly be- 
lieve that I love you as I do, since I run away 
from you. But — I had to. Dear as you are, 
as everybody is, my one brother is dearer 
thaii the whole world and only our father can 
compel me to leave him. Polly Pancoast.’ ” 
As she finished reading and laid the letter 


46 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

down Aunt Mercy scanned the faces of her 
two helpers to see how it had impressed them. 
Martha was angry, even more angry than her 
mistress. To her stern New England train- 
ing there was no worse crime than turning 
one’s back upon duty. Polly’s duty had been 
to the aunt who had reared her, and in the 
line of obedience to her father’s will that she 
should remain at Rock Acre, and the girl, so 
well “ raised,” had tossed duty aside like a 
feather. This was, in Martha’s code, an 
unforgivable thing. 

Jonathan’s thought found prompt expres- 
sion, as he said : 

I feared something like this*. She even 
told me, but old simpleton that I was, I didn’t 
really believe her. I thought her worry over 
Roly had just turned her head a mite. If I’d 
had the sense of a week-old kitten I’d have 
come right in to you with the whole business, 
right to oncet. Look out the window. It’s 
snowing furious. The best thing to do is for me 
to hitch up to the pung and go fetch her back. 
Old Rate’ll never keep up with Smith’s fast 
horses and, now this storm’s cornin’ on, he’ll 
drive like Jehu. He’ll likely have to take to 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 47 

runners ^stead of wheels by the time he 
reaches the Corners, but 111 be smart enough 
to take them at the start. Poor little mis- 
judging Polly ! What is she but a slip of a 
child ? even yet, and lowin^ she’s in the head 
class. Poor little lovin’, sufferin’ creatur’ I 
Just look out the window, will you ? Ever 
see it snow like that, before ? Ugh I Roly, in- 
side a warm stage, ’ll be all right, but our girl 
a-horseback ” 

Why on earth don’t you start ? ” de- 
manded Martha, fiercely, and with an entire 
change of front. “ If I was goin’ to rescue a 
perishin’ child from a snow-storm I’d do it. I 
wouldn’t stand lookin’ out of no windows.” 

With which Miss Simmons whisked a couple 
of soapstones from the hearthside into the hot 
coals, seized a big shawl from the cloak closet, 
ran up-stairs for her own green-barege veil, 
brought out a pair of woolen overshoes and 
heated them, and all with a deft alacrity which 
utilized every movement and every second of 
time. She, also, kept a constant watch toward 
the carriage-house, and as the gray horse 
stepped between the shafts of the pung, gath- 
ered up the articles she had provided and 


48 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

hurried to Jonathan’s aid. She hitched up ” 
on her side the reluctant gray, who stoutly 
objected to leaving his stall in such a tempest, 
and was finished before the hired man’s 
clumsier fingers had buckled half the straps 
required. These she snatched from him, com- 
manding : 

“ Now button your coat, tie up your ears, 
put on your tufted mittens, and don’t let the 
grass grow under your feet ’fore you get that 
silly Polly back into this warm house. The 
idee ! Horseback ridin’ in a January snow- 
storm, a Maine snow-storm I ” 

With a weak attempt at playfulness, Jona- 
than remarked, as he climbed into the pung 
and buried his feet in the straw-filled bottom : 

“ Don’t consider this growin’ weather, my- 
self, but I’ll try to keep down any crops that 
try to spring up. Chirk up Mercy Hallock, 
Martha,” he finished with a grave face ; “ this 
here is a mighty bad affair. I only hope it 
will end better than it looks now. Giddap, 
Gray ! Giddap ! Now you just stir your 
stumps the liveliest ever ! Wish’t I had a 
firecracker to throw under you to limber you 
up a speck ! ” 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 49 

Though for a short distance there was what 
Jonathan called ‘‘ mighty poor sleddinV’ the 
snow accumulated so rapidly on the frozen 
road that before long the pung was spinning 
along at a fine rate, the gray horse stepping 
out as if trying to outrace the storm and cer- 
tainly requiring no firecrackers to accelerate 
his speed. The anxious driver kept a sharp 
lookout ahead for any sign of a scarlet-cloaked 
girl riding a sorrel mare, but the fiakes blinded 
him and, if there had been footfalls to dis- 
cover, would promptly have hidden them. 
He met but one team and halted that to 
inquire : 

“ Seen anything of Polly Pancoast, a-horse- 
back?” 

“ Mercy, no ! Who’d go ridin^ to-day ? 

But Jonathan paused only long enough to 
hear the “ No,^' then on again, trying to con- 
sole himself with the reflection : TainT as 
if she didnT know the way all right. It’s a 
straight road and she’s rid over it time and 
again. It’s only that her poor little hands ’ll 

get too numb to hold the bridle and Kate 

Get up, Gray I Can’t you travel no faster ’n 
a snail ? ” 


50 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

When the pursuer reached the Corners the 
stage had long been past there. Its driver 
had, as usual, changed horses, and had pro- 
ceeded at his swiftest pace toward the end of 
his route. He had left the bulky coach at the 
tavern stable and had gone on with a sleigh. 
There had been no passenger except Roland, 
who had aroused considerable curiosity because 
of his departure for so distant a land as Cali- 
fornia. Nobody had arrived on horseback, 

man, woman, nor child,’’ and nobody 
could if they didn’t do it sudden. ’Twasn’t 
so terrible cold, not yet, or it couldn’t snow. 
But the storm was slacking up a bit and the 
mercury goin’ down. ’Twould be zero before 
anybody knew it, and forty degrees below it 
by nightfall, likely.” 

At this stage of the innkeeper’s remarks, 
Jonathan irritably ordered him to shut up.” 
“ Don’t keep talkin’ an’ stop my thinking, 
that way. Now, hark to me, and then say 
what’s best to be done, if you know it.” 
Accordingly, the other listened while Mr. 
Wilson made public the escapade which the 
family at Rock Acre had, with its reticent 
pride, desired to keep to itself. But in the 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 


51 


face of this fresh peril, let everybody be noti- 
fied and everybody help in a search for the 
runaway girl. The innkeeper immediately 
olfered his services and suggested that a house- 
to-house canvass be made along the only two 
roads possible for the passage of a team. It 
was probable that Polly would have been 
frightened by the storm and have sought 
shelter in some one of these scattered dwell- 
ings, which would explain why she had not 
arrived at the inn. So two teams were, 
presently, faced about toward the farm, one 
traveling the rougher ridge-road,’^ and the 
tavern-keeper returning along the lower, more 
level route by which the hired man had come. 
At every dwelling either passed, whether stand- 
ing beside the roadway or back among the 
fields, inquiries were made, yet to all was 
the unvarying response — Polly had not been 
seen. 

It was hours before Jonathan and his helper 
in the search met at Rock Acre, each hoping 
the other might bring good news or even that 
the girl might have reappeared by herself, only 
to face the sorrowful fact of her loss. 

'' Lost she is ! ” cried Martha, weeping 


52 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

aloud. '' We shall none of us ever see her 
happy face again ! I know it. I feel it in 
my bones.” 

When her assistant began to feel things in 
her bones,” and to accept the worst as an 
established fact, Mrs. Hallock roused from her 
dazed inaction to take the lead of affairs. 
The snow had ceased to fall as the early 
nightfall came on, but the cold had become 
almost unbearable. Yet the men of that 
region were accustomed to below-zero weather 
and willingly organized themselves into a 
larger searching party, Jonathan having 
carried the news to the village, and for all 
the hours of that long, terrible night, neigh- 
bors went looking, probing, peering every- 
where, in places both likely and unlikely. 
And at each halt, for warmth and refresh- 
ment at any farmhouse, sympathetic women 
made hot drinks and offered their best for the 
sustenance required ; then sent their men folks 
again afield with the assurance : YouTe cer- 
tain to find her this time.” 

But Polly was not lost. There was a third 
road to the Corners, of which nobody had 
thought ; a mere footpath over the ridge and 


53 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 

through the woods, where a sure-footed horse 
might pick its way, though no wagon could 
pass. Often in summer, or at that early 
spring-time when wild flowers bloomed in 
their depths, Polly had ridden patient Kate 
through these woods, and as she saw the stage 
disappearing before her down the pike, it 
came to her mind that by this same way she 
could cut off several miles of travel and surely 
reach the Corners before her brother did. 

The idea no sooner occurred than it was 
acted upon, and all might have gone as 
planned had not the mare stumbled in a 
snow-hidden hole and lamed herself beyond 
all chance of further travel. Dismounting, 
Polly viewed Kate’s injury with dismay, and 
with a growing sense of personal affront. 
Frantic at the delay, and by this hindrance 
the more determined to proceed, she berated 
her pet in tones that mild-eyed creature had 
never heard before. 

“ Oh, Kate ! Had you no more sense than 
that ? After traveling this wood-road till you 
ought to know its every root and stone, to go 
and do a thing like this ! Try, dear ; try, 
good old Katy I just try ! Lots of people can 


54 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

do things they think they can’t, so why can’t 
a horse? See if you can’t hobble a little bit ! 
Then you’ll limber up as you walk and once 
we’re out of the woods you can trot like every- 
thing ! Try ! ” 

The poor animal apparently understood and 
did ‘‘ try,” then cast an appealing glance at her 
young mistress and sank slowly down upon 
the fast whitening ground. Then Polly’s heart 
misgave her for her own selfishness and she 
realized that the first thing to be done was to 
secure help and shelter for the mare. After 
that — to Portland, any way and how she might! 

“ I’ll go to the wood-cutter’s house at the 
end of this road. That comes out far beyond 
the Corners, where the other crossroads are 
at the Settlement. The stage turns off south 
before that place, hut if I hurry maybe I can 
get back in time, because this is the short 
base of a triangle of roads, and the stage has 
to do two long sides while I do one little one. 
Glad I studied geometry and thought of that. 
Good-bye, Kate, old friend 1 If I can’t come 
back myself. I’ll send somebody. Lift your- 
self a little. I’ll unsaddle you and put the 
blanket over you.” 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 55 

This was swiftly accomplished ; the saga- 
cious animal obeyed, realizing that her com- 
fort was in question ; and having covered the 
prostrate mare as securely as she could, Polly 
seized her own small bundle of clothing and 
started off at a swinging pace. She scarcely 
heeded the fast falling snow, until the road 
was fully hidden, then guided herself easily 
enough by the blazed trees on either side, as 
the woodmen did. Her exercise and her ex- 
citement kept her warm, and she was so accus- 
tomed to long walks and mountain-tramping 
that she felt little fatigue. 

In due time she reached the Settlement, 
where was a cluster of rude shanties, occu- 
pied by the French-Canadian lumbermen who 
labored near by, and with one or two belong- 
ing to sailors from the coast, of kin to the 
choppers and occasional residents among them. 
With the fortune which sometimes favors the 
unwise, such a sailor was now on the point of 
departure for the very coast town as herself. 

A rough little pony, hitched to an even 
rougher sled, stood before one of the shanties, 
and amid the group surrounding it, Polly 
recognized a man who had helped at the 


56 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

haying on Rock Acre the summer past. De- 
lighted at sight of a familiar face, the girl 
hurried to him and told her story, breath- 
lessly ; he comprehending the matter slowly, 
but finally, in full. His slowness irritated 
her, yet she restrained her impatience as well 
as she could and was rewarded when he said : 

Me understand. Sick horse, sorrel — broke 
— tail — Kate, good plougher, back in woods, 
hurt bad. Good. Ver’ good. I send. I 
fetch her here. I make her well. Then I 
take her the missus and get money. Hey ? ” 

Yes, yes. I’m sure .Aunt Mercy will pay 
you for curing her if you can, and for trying 
to do so, any way. Now, may I depend on 
you ? I want to get back to the Corners. I 
must meet the stage for Portland. My brother 
is in it and I We are going to Cali- 

fornia on the Columbia. You used to hear 
about my Captain-father when you worked 
for us, didn’t you? ” 

“ Oui, yes,” answered Michel, absently, and 
with a questioning glance at Pierre, his 
brother, ready for departure. The falling 
flakes had turned the wTole group into snow- 
men and dashed Polly’s red cloak with streaks 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 57 

of white, but nobody heeded this at all. What 
they did heed was the chance of money, and 
after unspoken interrogation and reply, during 
which the Frenchmen’s expressive gestures 
answered for words, Michel spoke again : 

“ He go Portland, he, himself, Pierre, yon. 
He sail the next day on a ship. You go, the 
garcon go, and the capitaine — how much you 
ride alongside my Pierre? I driving to that 
Portland all seek. Eh ? How much ? ” 

For the space of a half-minute, no longer, 
Polly reflected ; then cried out : ^‘All 1 have. 
Every cent I have ! ” 

Good. It is a bargain, oui, yes.” 

Michel’s wife came out and drew the girl 
into the cabin, brushing off the snow from the 
red cloak and offering the cup of coffee which 
had been prepared for her own departing men. 
She could speak English more fluently than 
her husband and assured Kate’s mistress that 
already two lads were being sent back to find 
and attend the mare ; then she pointed to the 
pile of furs and blankets heating beside the 
red-hot box-stove and showed how comfort- 
ably one could make a twenty-mile drive 
wrapped in these. The horse was a good one. 


58 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Michel a careful driver, and Polly would be 
in Portland long before the rumbling old 
stage could reach the town. “Yes. Yes, in- 
deed. To be sure.” 

Ten minutes later the trio were on the road, 
Polly bundled and wrapped till even Aunt 
Mercy would have been satisfied, could she 
have seen how slight were the girPs chances 
of suffering from cold. But beyond that the 
discomforts of the journey were sufficient 
punishment for all her wrong-doing — so the 
girl-traveler thought. The horse which had 
been pronounced fast might have been so, but 
he was not once allowed to test his own speed. 
Michel was “ careful,” indeed. It was a 
steady walk for twenty miles, over a route 
concerning which the Frenchmen were often 
in doubt and paused long to discuss. Often, 
after such discussion, they would retrace their 
way for some distance, then make a fresh 
start and pace forward again. Mostly, they 
were silent, and neither spoke a word to Polly, 
who began to feel, after some hours had 
elapsed, as if she had been journeying in this 
fashion all her life and should continue so to 
journey for an indefinite time. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 59 

Fortunately, as they neared the coast, the 
rigor of the atmosphere abated, so that even 
without their heaped-up furs they would 
have been quite comfortable ; and, at last, that 
memorable ride ended before a wooden tavern 
by the waterside where the Frenchmen disen- 
tangled themselves from their blankets and 
stepped out upon the ground. 

Then Michel helped Polly from the sled 
and, baring his head to the night breeze, 
stood respectfully waiting. For what, she 
could not at first guess. Then it slowly 
dawned upon her that it was his fare he de- 
sired and, also — that he would never be satis- 
fied with her one, solitary dollar. In reality, 
he would have been, but she did not know 
that, and there ensued for the farm-bred girl 
a very dark, unhappy moment. Was ever 
anybody so desolate, so forlorn ! The few 
poor lamps in the adjacent buildings served 
but to make the black night outside the 
darker ; and a distant lap, lap, lapping of 
water against an unseen boat keel, was the 
dreariest sound the wanderer had ever heard. 
But, it would never do to think of these 
things, else she should break down and appear 


6o POLLY, THE GRINGO 

before her father in a condition not likely to 
win his approval of her scheme. Summon- 
ing all her pluck she turned toward Michel, 
saying : 

Of course, you will be paid. But, first, I 
must ask you to take me to my father’s ship, 
the Columbia. I’m a stranger here and 
can’t find it in this darkness.” 

Michel put on his cap and looked at 
Pierre, who was already impatient to be 
within the tavern, and waited only till his 
brother should be rid of their now undesir- 
able passenger. Between the two men there 
was a little talk in a language Polly could not 
understand, then Michel walked away, lead- 
ing his horse, and Pierre nodded to the girl 
to follow him. She did so without fear, com- 
prehending that he, as the sailor, would know 
best where to look for the Columbia : and 
this, in fact, was the case. After what seemed 
to her impatience an interminable walk along 
freight-stacked piers, among malodorous casks 
and boxes, they came at length to an open 
wharf, where a light swayed dimly on a pole, 
and where a dock-hand was putting the last 
touches of order to the deserted quay. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 6i 

There Pierre halted suddenly, gazed all 
about him with a bewildered air and, finally, 
approached the dockman, asking a startled 
question. 

This question Polly could only surmise, but 
the answer came with cruel distinctness : 

The Columbia, Hiram Pancoast, Cap- 
tain ? Why, land alive, lad ! youVe lost your 
job on that ship. The Columbia sailed out 
of this dock more’n five hours ago I 


CHAPTER IV 


IN THE STKAITS 

Polly was a perfectly healthy girl, but she 
had, for that day, almost forgotten her own 
physical needs. She had eaten no breakfast, 
had but sipped at the coffee MichePs wife had 
proffered, and had declined to share in the 
rude lunch the Frenchmen had brought with 
them on the way. Lack of food and long ex- 
posure to cold produced a natural result, when 
added to the terrible news that her reckless 
journey had been made for nought. 

The Columbia gone ! Father and brother 
already at sea and beyond her reach, while 
she stood a stranger and penniless in this un- 
known town I With the full realization of her 
situation, courage failed, and turning suddenly 
faint and giddy, Polly sank down upon the 
planks and felt that she must certainly be 
dying. Her last conscious thought was that 
she had fully deserved her fate, though there 
was no comfort in this. 

When she recovered her senses she was 

62 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 63 

lying on a bunk in a tiny cabin aboard some 
vessel. This fact was slow in penetrating her 
consciousness, but, as it did, a wild delight ban- 
ished her former misery and she would have 
sprung to her feet, crying : Father! Roland I 
Then it wasnT true that you had gone with- 
out me 1 Where are you ? Come ! 

Then she sank back on the pillow, wonder- 
ing at her odd weakness and the queer sound 
of her own voice. Faint as this was, however, 
it had been sufficient to reach the ears of a 
gray-haired woman, outside the cabin door, 
who hastily entered, smiling and exclaiming : 

Well, if that isn’t the best thing I’ve heard 
to-day 1 You poor little tuckered-out child I 
Waked up, at last, haven’t you ? And I hope 
good and hungry for your breakfast.” 

Polly stared and tried to smile in return, 
then anxiously asked : “ Where am I ? ” 

“ On board the schooner Mary Ann, John 
Marshall, Captain. He’s my husband, as fine 
as this craft which he named for me and that 
does me honor. Now, are you ready for some- 
thing to eat ? ” 

This unknown Mrs. Marshall was, evidently, 
the cheeriest of women. She w^as fine-looking, 


64 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

decided in movement and gesture, yet seemed 
fairly to irradiate sunshine through the nar- 
row place. Her gray hair rippled back from 
a broad white forehead, and above her clear 
gray eyes were delicately penciled brows, 
slightly darker in hue than her hair and giv- 
ing a noticeable effect to her time-lined face. 
She was certainly far from young, yet her 
wide mouth opened over teeth wholesomely 
white and well-kept, and her whole manner 
evinced a vigor which the years had not 
dimmed. Also, though she was so alert and 
even brusque, she seemed the embodiment of 
kindliness as well as strength, and Polly^s 
lonely, loving heart went out toward her as if 
she were of kin. Remembering another well- 
loved gray-haired woman, mistakenly deserted, 
the tears rose in the girl's eyes, as she answered : 

Thank you, Mrs. Marshall, I — I believe I 
am, though I hadn’t thought about that ; and, 
first, will you tell me what has happened and 
why I am here ? ” 

Easy done, all that. However, just wait 
till I tell cook to fetch a tray and to let the 
Captain know. Mighty anxious he was about 
you, bless his heart ! ” 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 65 

Then, going a few steps out of sight Mrs. 
Captain,’^ as her friends called her, gave some 
directions to an invisible cook, whistled a bar 
or two of a familiar sea-song, and returned. 
Her heavy footfall seemed to sway the vessel, 
more than the water on which it rode, and 
was echoed by a lighter tread, as was her sig- 
nal by a shriller whistle. After which, rolling 
and swaggering like a creature of utmost 
girth, there entered a bit of a man, faultlessly 
attired in nautical togs,’^ and a veritable 
dandy of the high seas. 

Spick and span, in the most dapper of uni- 
forms then obtainable, he hopped along to- 
ward Polly^s berth, smiling, merry, cocking his 
small head to one side, making her think of 
a humming-bird grown suddenly human and 
flippant. In his cracked little voice he saluted 
her with exaggerated courtesy and demanded : 

Well, Lady Passenger ! What^s the orders? 
Anything this good town of Portland has to 
sell and you want it, I’m the man to buy I 
Slept like a top, didn’t you ? Who could help 
it on the Mary Ann? Captained by that 
other Mary Ann, the finest creature ever went 
through the Straits. Hungry, eh ? Beefsteak ? 


66 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Lobster? Chicken patties? Oranges? Ba- 
nanas ? What’s the ticket, Captain ? ” 

His last question was abruptly addressed to 
his wife, who quietly assured him that the 
order ” had been given. Yet she beamed 
upon this absurd little man as if he were a 
veritable genius, whom she adored yet rever- 
enced ; and the gaze she turned upon Polly 
mutely appealed for confirmation of this faith. 
Fortunately, the girl had no reply ready nor, 
indeed, did any seem really expected ; for lay- 
ing her large hand upon her husband’s small 
shoulder, the wife begged : 

While cook fetches the things, tell the 
child what happened.” 

‘‘ Nothing much, except that you fell down 
in a faint on the pier next mine and I hap- 
pened to be jogging home to sleep. One of 
my crew was with you, though I didn’t recog- 
nize him when first sighted, Pierre Faurot by 
name. He said you were a-chase of the Co- 
lumbia, sailed by a friend of mine. Soon as 
he said ^ Pancoast ’ it was all right. A stern 
chase is a long chase, but we’ll overhaul Hiram 
at the Straits, if not before. You’re with 
honest folks and the best woman ever trod a 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 67 

deck. Don’t you worry. Eat your mess, 
sleep your fill, and show your noble father a 
rosy pair of cheeks when he sights you. 
Heigho ! Breakfast, already ? At it, my 
hearty, and don’t dare to leave a single crumb 
or my Mary Ann’ll ’tend to your case. Noth- 
ing provokes that saint like seeing nice vict- 
uals spoiled.” 

With that the dapper Captain made another 
salute and hopped away, while Mrs. Marshall 
followed a cabin boy bearing a tray to the 
bunk side and prepared to feed her guest. 

However, she was well pleased when Polly 
arose, asking for basin and towel, and promptly 
produced them, only bidding the girl make 
haste lest the hot food cool. Nor, although 
she was burning with curiosity, would the 
kind creature ask a question until the stran- 
ger’s appetite was fully appeased. Then, 
sending the tray away, she drew Polly to a 
seat upon a settle beside herself and slipping 
an arm about the child’s shoulders, exclaimed : 

Now, the whole business ! Out with it, 
root and branch, beginning and end. How 
came sensible folks like the Pancoasts to send 
a slip of a thing like you, wild-wandering in 


68 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

a strange town at nightfall and no provision 
made against mischance ? That’s not a bit 
like my idea of Cap’n Hiram. He’s a long- 
headed man, thinks of everything can happen, 
even if he is as quick as a flash settling mat- 
ters. It’s ^ this and now ’ with him. So how- 
ever he sailed and left his girl behind, if he 
was expecting her, puzzles me.” 

Polly’s eyes dropped and her cheek flushed. 
Her behavior had lost all of the romance with 
which she had surrounded it and now ap- 
peared in the plain, unflattering light of diso- 
bedience. She had done wrong and must 
suffer any punishment her flight from home 
entailed. After a moment’s hesitation, she 
lifted her gaze to her questioner’s kind face 
and told everything “ from beginning to end,” 
as she had been bidden. The effect of her 
story upon the listener was different from what 
Polly expected, for, in truth, the girl’s absorb- 
ing love for her brother touched Mrs. Mar- 
shall’s heart. 

After a moment of consideration, she said : 

Of course, it will all be as Captain Mar- 
shall decides. We’ll lay the case before him, 
as soon as we can. He’s so busy now, getting 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 69 

off, I hate to bother him — last of the cargo 

coming on — yet, if at all — then now 

Wait here. Vll be back in a minute. Can 
you write ? But, of course, that’s a silly ques- 
tion. There’s writing things yonder, in that 
little swinging desk. Get a letter ready for 
your aunt, telling her you’re with us and we 
are going to take you to your father. Then, 
if my captain so says, it’ll be ready to send 
ashore by the last boat leaves, and can be 
mailed to your folks. And if he says you’re 
to go back, instead of the letter, I advise you 
to step lively. No time for lagging when the 
Mary Ann sails.” 

Polly sped to the desk and wrote a hasty 
note, reproaching herself for her own mis- 
taken conduct, yet honestly saying that she 
hoped she might be taken on the Mary Ann 
to find her father and brother. She concluded : 

I should do just the same thing, if I had 
to do it over again — I mean I should try to 
follow Roland — but I should do it differently. 
I hope you haven’t worried too much and that 
I will be a much better girl when I come 
home again.” 

She had barely finished her task when Mrs. 


70 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Marshall’s tread again shook the cabin, al- 
ready swaying with a motion which, had 
Polly been wiser, she would have known be- 
tokened that the stanch schooner was well 
under way. The lady’s face showed unfeigned 
pleasure, though some anxiety, and her terse 
command was : 

Give me the letter ! Quick ! ” 

In her relief and delight, Polly almost 
threw the folded and wax-sealed sheet into 
the outstretched hand awaiting it. For by 
that brief sentence she understood that it 
was only her message to Aunt Mercy which 
would travel to Woodley, and not herself. 

I’m going to stay aboard the Mary Ann ! 
I’m going to follow Roland ! ” she cried to 
herself, skipping ecstatically about the little 
place and feeling as if these new seafaring 
friends were the kindest people in the world. 
Kind, indeed, they were and to prove real 
friends ; but the impetuous girl would have 
been hurt had she known in just what in- 
different manner her fate had been settled. 

To his wife’s inquiries as to what should be 
done with their young guest the Captain had 
hastily and carelessly replied : 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 71 

Whatever you please. Don’t bother me. 
Take or leave her. Hold there, lads ! you’re 
staving in the heads of them sugar barrels ! 
Easy, now, easy ! Out the way, Pierre, you 
lubber ! Eh ? What’s that ? A letter to go 
ashore? Lively, then. Last boat’s off and 
so are we ! ” 

A very different man was the Captain of 
tlie Mary Ann when on duty from the dapper 
little fellow of the earlier morning. So crisp, 
so energetic, and so masterful that even his 
biggest sailors forgot his diminutive size and 
obeyed him instantly, without question. 

Thus it was that Mrs. Marshall herself really 
decided ” the matter she had said must be 
settled by her husband ; as, indeed, she mostly 
did decide everything not connected with the 
navigation of the schooner ; and the truth 
was that she as greatly desired the girl’s com- 
panionship on the long voyage before her as 
Polly desired to give it. She, also, sympa- 
thized with a sister’s love for a brother and 
believed that whatever his wish in the matter. 
Captain Pancoast would welcome his daugh- 
ter when she reached him and make the best 
of the situation. 


72 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Thus, almost before she realized it, run- 
away Polly Pancoast was putting out to sea 
upon a journey which would take many, 
many days to accomplish. Down the eastern 
coast of both Americas, through the Straits 
of Magellan, or around “ the Horn,’^ and up 
the Pacific to the harbor of San Diego, lay the 
long, long way to that California land of 
which Captain Pancoast had told so much, 
and whither he and Roland were now bound. 

A book might be written about that voy- 
age, which began in midwinter and ended at 
midsummer, and upon which Polly saw so 
many wonderful things yet endured so many 
days of plain, monotonous sailing — wearying 
in their sameness, and making her often ex- 
claim to Mrs. Marshall : “ Oh ! I do wish 

something would happen ! ’’ 

Well, deary ! I should say that being be- 
calmed for thirteen days at a time, landing at 
strange cities, seeing unknown races of people, 
diamonds rough from the mines and curious 
fruits and fiowers, as well as riding out the 
toughest gale we ever experienced on any 
voyage — were a few ‘ things ^ to happen to a 
little country girl from the state of Maine ! 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 73 

once returned Mrs. Captain, with a laugh at 
the other’s long face. 

“ But it does seem as if we would never 
get there, and I’m afraid we won’t find the 
Columbia after we do,” lamented Polly, now 
grown homesick and full of the forebodings 
which idleness aroused. 

So her wise friend produced a quantity of 
muslin, cut out several garments and set the 
girl to stitching them into shape for her own 
personal use. 

Now Polly disliked sewing, and though 
most New England girls are early taught that 
art she had not learned it. Her indulgent 
Aunt Mercy had preferred to do all necessary 
work of the kind herself, rather than enforce 
it upon her niece ; and as a last protest against 
a disagreeable task the reluctant seamstress 
urged : 

‘‘ It isn’t right, seems to me, to use your 
cloth for my things. If we fail to find father 
right away, how shall I ever pay for it ? That 
and my passage money together will amount 
to such a lot.” 

“ Humph 1 Don’t you worry about pay- 
ments, deary. Do your duty and trust to the 


74 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

future to take care of itself. Where we are 
going you’ll find neither thrifty aunts nor 
convenient shops to provide clothing, and you 
brought a short stock with you. Be thank- 
ful that things are going so smoothly just 
now that you have a chance to sew, for the 
^ happenings ’ you crave may be ahead of us 
yet. See. There is old Francisco, aft. Take 
your seam and sit with him. He’ll give you 
another lesson, maybe, in that Indian gibber- 
ish of his, that you’re so fond of learning 
and which may be of use to you yet. In- 
dians ! I hate the whole race ! ” 

Mrs. Marshall sighed as she finished and a 
look of anxiety clouded her face that was 
usually so cheerful. Through all that long 
voyage Polly had never seen her appear so 
worried, and when she asked, affectionately 
laying her hand upon her hostess’ arm : 

“ Is anything wrong, dear Mrs. Marshall ? 

Have I offended you? Has anybody ” 

the lady sighed again, then with an effort 
tossed aside her trouble, whatever it was, and 
answered, lightly : 

“ No, I’m a silly old woman, I guess. That 
ship we bespoke, going home Oh ! dear ! 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 75 

I wish we were safely through the Straits, or 
that my Captain would round the Horn. It's 
the safer, I think, even with the head winds. 
But there ! Many's the time John Marshall 
has sailed all safe between old Portland and 
new California, and why shouldn't he now? 
Go to Francisco, child, and add a new word or 
two to your list." 

Polly obediently went, and now no longer 
reluctant to set her stitches quietly and neatly 
as she had been shown. Sewing was the 
peacefulest of tasks and her sensitive spirit 
had caught an undefinable trouble in the air. 

To hear Mrs. Marshall sigh in that pro- 
longed, apprehensive way was depressing 
enough ; but also, ever since they had be- 
spoken that homeward bound ship early in 
the morning, the Captain himself had been 
preoccupied and grimly attentive to the de- 
fenses of his own craft. Every movable 
article, not actually necessary for immediate 
use, had been sent below, the decks cleared, 
and the two guns made ready for action. The 
crew had received a supply of ammunition and 
been bidden to have their firearms in order. 
There was no playing of checkers, to while 


76 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

away the hours of idleness, no jesting nor 
skylarking,’’ and but little conversation. 

Francisco, alone, showed no added serious- 
ness ; but then he was always stolid and un- 
moved either by fear or pleasure, and his 
present impassiveness was a relief to the 
general gloom of the others. Indeed, in 
watching his nimble fingers fashioning the 
wonderful little baskets which he so con- 
tinually made and for which, Mrs. Marshall 
had told her, he found a ready sale at any 
port they touched, she forgot that things were 
different from usual. She “ exchanged teach- 
ing,” as she expressed it, and had already 
become an adept at the common phrases of 
the Indian’s own dialect. Indians, of another 
sort, had been familiar to her always. Many 
came down to the coast towns from the north- 
ern part of her native state and from the 
provinces above, and these had often hired 
themselves to help in the farm labor of 
Woodley. From them she had picked up a 
few terms which, however, were different from 
those Francisco imparted. 

By and by, the wind increased so that the 
pieces of cloth on which Polly was sewing 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 77 

blew about and prevented her working, and 
she grew benumbed with the cold. Francisco 
rose, too, rather suddenly, and at the same 
time she was called from below. 

Running down into the cabin she asked : 

“ Did you want me, Mrs. Marshall ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, Polly, I have something to tell you. 
We are entering the Straits, and we are likely 
to have rough times, not only with the con- 
trary winds — which are dangerous enough — 
but from the Indians of the southern shore. 
There is among them a tribe of cannibals, who 
come out about the small vessels, like ours, in 
their canoes, waiting a chance to do us harm 
— if possible to overpower and capture us. 
The ship we spoke had trouble, but was too 
big to be in very great danger. We are a 
little craft and company, and I do wish my 
Captain had doubled the Cape rather than 
have tried this shorter passage to the Pacific. 
However, when he sets his will to do a thing 
— he does it without my interference. Do 
nothing, say nothing, to disturb him or 
attract his attention from whatever he is 
thinking of, even though he seems so glum 
and solemn as to frighten you. Once we 


78 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

are safely past this dreadful three hundred 
miles of stress — hurrah for the blue Pacific ! 
And soon after that — for Captain Hiram Pan- 
coast and a blue-eyed boy named Roland ! ” 

“ Cannibals ! O how horrible ! cried poor 
Polly, shivering in terror. 

Of such creatures she had read, in that far 
away schoolhouse which had now become to 
her almost like a dream ; but that she, Polly 
Pancoast, a simple New England farm girl, 
should ever meet them face to face seemed 
impossible. 

“ There, there, daughter. Don’t look so 
frightened. We are in danger, and I thought 
it my duty to tell you ; but we are neither 
molested and certainly not captured — yet. 
But, if worst comes to worst, remember your 
up-bringing and be true to your brave father’s 
race.” 

“ I — I — will,” faltered Polly, little dream- 
ing how soon her heroism would be tested. 
For that which was foreboded came to pass. 
With the sunset of that first day in the rock- 
bordered Strait its waters were suddenly dotted 
with numberless canoes, which seemed actually 
to have risen from the waves. 



AN ARROW STRUCK HER IN THE SHOULDER 



I 


I 






r 


V 


\ 





POLLY, THE GRINGO 79 

Polly caught one glimpse and was ordered 
into bed ; but Mrs. Captain ’’ stayed on deck 
and took her station by her husband’s side, 
refusing to leave him, and doing good service, 
indeed, by her keen watch on every point. 
Alas ! Her sharp eyes failed her once, and at 
a critical moment. A chance arrow sped from 
some canoe, astern in the gloom of a cloudy 
night, struck her fairly on the shoulder and 
felled her at her husband’s feet. 

He uttered one groan, then as if imbued 
with a giant’s strength, the little man lifted 
the big woman and carried her to her own 
stateroom, where, summoned by his hasty call, 
Polly found him on his knees sucking the 
poison from the wound and looking as if he 
had received his own death-blow. 

At the sight and his hurried explanation, 
all Polly’s fear gave place to a fury of indig- 
nation. 

‘‘ But she shall not die, dear Captain ! 
She shall not — not by the hand of an In- 
dian ! ” 

Then, as if the word had given her inspira- 
tion, she sped out of the room to where old 
Francisco lay sleeping as calmly as if no dan- 


8o POLLY, THE GRINGO 


ger existed — as, maybe, there did not for 
him — and roused him with a jerk. 

“ Up, Francisco I Quick — and save your 
mistress^ life ! ” 


CHAPTER V 


ARRIVALS 

What remained of that eventful voyage, 
Polly scarcely remembered. After what 
seemed to her an endless time of buffeting 
with head winds and guarding against savages, 
the staunch little Mary Ann sailed into the 
quiet Pacific and up toward the north and a 
safe harbor. There were brief necessary stop- 
pings at various ports, but Captain Marshall 
kept a steadfast way to the haven he sought, 
and one sunny day entered the sheltered bay 
of San Diego. 

When they dropped anchor, Mrs. Marshall 
seemed to realize the change in affairs and 
languidly asked, “ Are we there? 

This was almost the first coherent sentence 
she had spoken since that dark night when 
she had sunk down wounded at her husband^s 
side, and Polly heard it with unspeakable 
thankfulness. Only for the briefest intervals 
of sleep and refreshment she had not left her 
hostess^ room, but now she bounded up the 

8i 


82 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

steps and hurried to the captain with the joy- 
ful news : 

Oh ! Captain Marshall ! She is awake — 
she knows — she knows ! 

Busy as he was, and even more stern than 
usual because of the great trouble that had be- 
fallen him, the little man’s manner altered in- 
stantly, and happiness fairly shone from his 
small weather-beaten face as he clutched the 
girl’s shoulder, demanding : 

Say it again ! She ‘ knows ’ ? Mary Ann 
has come to herself? ” 

Yes, yes. Oh ! come and see for yourself. 
I am so glad ! I am so glad ! ” 

Well, daughter, I believe you ; and I tell 
you now, my dear, that if my wife recovers it 
is your care that’s saved her. God bless the 
day that sent you aboard the Mary Ann ! ” 

“ Oh, no ! Not I but Francisco ” 

Francisco ! Humph ! Nursing, not In- 
dian gibberish and herb drinks has done the 
business. If — it is done ! ” he finished, in an 
altered tone, looking down upon the wasted 
woman who had already fallen asleep again. 
Had Polly been less truthful he would have 
doubted that the invalid had ever roused, for 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 83 

she lay now, as she had ever since her injury, 
apparently unconscious of her surround- 
ings, her white lids closed and her hands rest- 
ing limply on the blanket. 

Tears rose to Polly’s eyes then, for it came 
over her in a flash that this journey ended, 
her own search was to begin. How should 
she, could she undertake it, alone in a strange 
land, penniless and friendless ? That Captain 
Marshall’s plan was to proceed immediately 
to Honolulu she had heard. Thence he 
would go to Alaska and take on a great 
number of native Indians with their skin 
canoes, enough to crowd his vessel, and with 
them return for the otter hunting. He was 
both owner and supercargo of the Mary 
Ann, as was Captain Pancoast of the larger 
vessel, the Columbia, and because of some past 
service rendered the Mexican government 
Captain Marshall had obtained permission to 
carry on this hunting, the proceeds of which 
were making him a wealthy man. 

That he w^ould be separated from his be- 
loved wife, Polly did not believe, nor that he 
would bother about her own future. She was 
both right and wrong. 


84 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

A physician was promptly secured and car- 
ried to the stateroom where Mrs. Marshall 
lay ; and his verdict was that the lady would 
be as comfortable there as anywhere else in 
the world. The Mary Ann was really her 
home, and the sea air was the best of tonics. 
As for nursing, the doctor knew of a most 
capable and experienced woman who would 
, gladly assume charge of the invalid, in view 
of the large salary Captain Marshall offered. 
But, in making all these arrangements for his 
wife, the grateful Captain did not forget his 
young passenger. When all was again ready 
for departure he called her to him and bade 
her “ pack her chest with all the dainty gar- 
ments she had made for herself under Mrs. 
MarshalFs directions. This all was not so 
many as the good man fancied, but to such as 
it was he added a sum of money sufficient to 
procure suitable clothing for her new life in a 
new land. 

You’ll be wanting summer togs, down 
here at this jumping-off place, and Sehora 
Ysidro will see to getting them for you. No, 
no, hush ! Say nothing about debt ! That 
is all on our side. And don’t look so serious. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 85 

I can’t take you on another cruise, lest you 
miss your father, if he puts in here. I’ve 
inquired and he’s likely due in a little while. 
Till then, you’ll stay at the ranch of the 
Ysidros’, and Doha Dolores — Mrs. Ysidro — 
will make you happy. You could not find a 
better guardian, now that my Mary Ann is 
unfitted for your care. I will take you to 
your new home, myself, in half an hour. Be 
ready.” 

There was an attempt at playfulness in the 
Captain’s movements and smiles, mingled with 
his most businesslike manner, as he imparted 
this information, but poor Polly’s lips were 
sealed. Going to her own little room she put 
her few belongings together, her heart too 
heavy for the relief of tears, and her thoughts 
far away on a bleak New England hillside. 
It was strange, she felt, that now she had had 
her own way and followed her father and 
brother, she should think oftener of home 
and gentle Aunt Mercy than of them. Home ! 
It wouldn’t be bleak, just then. Five months 
had passed since she had looked out through 
frost-dimmed panes upon a wind-swept or- 
chard, that now would be pink with bloom 


86 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

above that delightfully green sward — which 
had just that tint of green at no other time 
of year. The robins must have come, and it 
might be were already nesting beneath the 
south porch, as they had done ever since she 
could remember. Jonathan would be plough- 
ing for corn and Aunt Mercy pottering about 
the sheltered garden on the sunny side of the 
house, looking after her sage-bed, her peony 
clumps, and the yellow daffodils which grew 
so well in the corner beyond the lean-to. But 
here — she could see nothing but sand across 
this blue bay, with here and there a strange, 
unknown tree lifting a stunted head. There 
wasn’t a tree anywhere in sight which could 
compare with the old maple by the barn gate, 
beneath which she and Roland had swung — 
so high that their feet touched branches away 
up toward its top. Would Aunt Mercy leave 
the old swing hanging, now her children ” 
were gone ? There, there. This wouldn’t do. 
Thinking was sorrowful business, and there 
was the Captain calling, in a tone intended 
but failing to be gay : '' All ashore ! Them 
that’s going ! ” 

With a hasty gathering of last belongings 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 87 

and one forlorn glance about the narrow place 
which had sheltered her so long, Polly hur- 
ried to Mrs. Marshall’s side. Oh ! if those 
dear, kindly lips could only open to speak a 
farewell word ! But no. The one sentence 
which had proved recovery possible was all 
that had come to comfort the anxious watch- 
ers, and already Polly was superseded. 

An elderly, prim-looking woman was sway- 
ing in a rocker beside the invalid’s bed and 
regarding the girl’s outburst of grief with 
evident disfavor. She promptly terminated 
the interview by saying : 

There. Never fuss over a sick person 
like that. She may possibly comprehend and 
be distressed. The Captain is calling again. 
You’d best make haste.” 

Without further word to anybody and only 
a silent hand-clasp for such of the crew as 
gathered to bid her good-bye, Polly obeyed, 
climbed over the side of the now beloved 
Mary Ann, and stepped into the little boat 
which was to carry her ashore. And there 
fresh disappointment awaited her, for with 
great reluctance Captain Marshall informed 
her that a business message just received 


88 POLLY, THE GRINGO 


would preclude his attending her to her des- 
tination, but that the driver who would ac- 
company her was an Easterner and had been 
entrusted with final directions. He had, 
already, seen the Ysidro family and prepared 
them for her coming. They were friends of 

her father’s and “ Good-bye, good-bye, 

my daughter ! If ever you need a home, re- 
member there’s one always ready for you 
aboard the Mary Ann. You’ve been a sight 
of comfort to me, little girl, and if your father 
won’t have you, I will ! Good-bye, good-bye.” 

The little man’s voice was more absurdly 
shrill and piping than ever, and there was a 
misty look about his twinkling eyes quite un- 
suited to so able a seaman : nor did he trust 
himself to a further look at the white faced 
girl whom he helped ashore at the wharf be- 
low the bluff on which the city was built. 

As for her, Polly scarcely realized when she 
was loaded into a curious wagon, already 
nearly filled with merchandise procured from 
the hold of the Mary Ann and purchased by 
the household to which she was, also, ^‘con- 
signed.” This wagon had no springs, and its 
body rested directly upon the axles. Its sides 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 89 

were of leather stretched upon slender up- 
rights, and its wheels were solid circular 
blocks of wood, several inches thick and as 
many feet in diameter, and with openings in 
the centres for the axles. The vehicle was 
drawn by oxen, with a primitive sort of yoke 
to which and the wagon were attached strips 
of soft hide. 

Polly’s seat was upon a pile of blankets at 
the rear end, and before her loomed sugar 
barrels, and boxes and bales of stuff, effectu- 
ally preventing any forward view of the land- 
scape. At first, she feared she would be 
crushed by the rolling of the barrels, which 
were jolted about by the rude wagon, or else 
be deafened by the horrible screeching of the 
ungreased wheels. Finding that neither of 
these things happened, she faced about and 
studied what could be seen from the rear. 

Sand, sand, sand ! If this is a town, where 
are the sidewalks ? And not a spear of grass 
anywhere. But — did anybody ever see such 
sunshine as this ? O, it’s wonderful ! And 
the birds — the ground is alive with them. 
My ! That’s a funny one ! ” cried Polly aloud, 
fancying that the driver so screened from 


90 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

sight by the barrels would also be deafened 
by the squeaking wheels. 

Like the firing of a revolver came the sud- 
den remark, Road-runner.’^ 

Do you mean the bird ? ” shouted Polly, 
thankful for any words, and especially for the 
familiar New England accent of the man’s 
voice. 

Yep.” 

“ I should think it was ! ” she returned, 
more closely observing the curious little crea- 
ture which sped along at the right and in ad- 
vance of the wagon, its long tail up-slanted 
and apparently intent upon keeping just a 
certain distance ahead of the oxen. Why 
doesn’t it fly away or turn out ? ” 

“ Natur’,” came the concise explanation 
from the front. 

Yet even as she was watching so intently, 
there was a quick dive of the runner into a 
roadside thicket, the tail tilting so high that 
it seemed the bird had turned a complete 
somersault. 

Polly laughed, and in laughing lost much 
of that homesick dread which had possessed 
her. Instantly, there was a responding laugh 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 


91 


from the driver’s seat, and inspired by this 
the girl got upon her feet, steadying herself 
upon an uneasy barrel, and peered forward. 
Then she called, May I come over there by 
you ? ” 

The man, who had been slouching forward, 
his elbows on knees and chin on hands, leav- 
ing the oxen to their own guidance, slowly 
straightened himself and replied, “ Sure ! ” 

The vehicle stopped so suddenly that Polly 
nearly followed the road-runner’s example 
and turned a somersault, but righted herself 
in time and laboriously made her way through 
the mass of goods before her to the uncovered 
board where Luther Dow sat, chewing his 
ever-present quid of tobacco and ruminating 
upon many things. A man of lightning-like 
speech and snail-like action, homely, and 
rudely attired in faded jeans, he was yet to 
prove an important personage in Polly’s life. 
Even at the present moment, and with no en- 
couragement on his part, she felt “ as if she 
must hug him, just because he had come from 
the east.” 

But, of course, she did not do this, nor did 
he make any more of his abrupt replies to her 


92 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

running comments on the queer things they 
passed. But he did vouchsafe one further 
word, when they came to the old Mission 
grounds, and Polly’s amazement at the mighty 
cactus hedge aroused her many questions and 
exclamations. 

“ Indians,” said Luther, and said no more. 

After this she, also, relapsed into silence 
and the road wound on and on through the 
rich valley, past the arroyo, or river of sand, 
such as she had read about in her father’s in- 
frequent letters, and which she recognized as 
such from his description. It was all widely 
different from anything she had known, but 
what impressed her most and roused again 
that homesickness she had partly con- 
quered, was the unbroken stretch of land. 
With no houses anywhere in sight, and but a 
few trees, it seemed at that first glimpse the 
dreariest spot on earth. 

Then, suddenly, the team turned southward 
upon a trail winding through a canyon and 
upward upon the level mesa. Here the road 
became a mere track across the plain toward 
a distant group of buildings, to which Luther 
silently pointed, leaving Polly to infer, if she 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 93 

chose, that it was the Ysidro ranch she beheld, 
and her horoe for the immediate future. 

She watched the buildings grow in size as 
they drew nearer to them and saw that they 
were of the same adobe mud, or bricks, which 
had been pointed out to her in the town itself ; 
and unadorned, as they were, by tree or shrub, 
they suggested a prison. 

Yet when at length the oxen had crawled 
to the entrance of the rancheria all was 
changed. Passing under an arched gateway, 
the wagon entered a great enclosed square, or 
court, teeming with life and green with a lux- 
uriant vegetation. In its centre played a 
mighty fountain, and about this, under the 
shade of palm-trees, were various groups of 
people — so numerous, indeed, that the new- 
comer felt she must have arrived at the time 
of a party,’^ or other unusual gathering. 

However, this was but the ordinary house- 
hold of the wealthy ranchero, Don Santiago 
Ysidro, and was composed of his own imme- 
diate family, with the many Indian servants 
and Mexican vaqueros. Children were every- 
where, and as Luther drove into the court, one 
cried, shrilly, Hola ! the Gringo ! ” 


94 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

‘‘ Pst-t ! Silence, discourteous ! ’’ warned a 
lady, who instantly approached the wagon 
and extended a welcoming hand, bidding 
Polly, “ Buen’ dias 1 in the gentlest of voices 
and with the kindest of smiles. 

“ Good-morning,’^ returned the stranger, 
and am I speaking to Mrs. Ysidro ? ” 

“ Of a truth, yes, and proud of the honor, 
Sehorita Polly Pancoast.” 

At this a tall youth stepped forward, bowed 
with what seemed an exaggerated humility, 
and would have assisted the visitor to the 
ground. But she had leaped over the wagon 
box, unaided, before he had regained the up- 
right, and she encountered an expression of 
such astonishment upon his face that her own 
flushed in confusion. 

However, there was such cordiality in 
Senora Ysidro’s manner that Polly’s heart 
lightened and she clasped the extended hands 
of her hostess, exclaiming : 

“ Oh ! Mrs. Ysidro, they tell me you are a 
friend of my father’s ! And I thank you for 
taking me in till he comes.” 

“ En verdad, but that is nought. It is I 
who am grateful for the so great pleasure of 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 95 

receiving the little Sehorita. But come, but 
come away into the shade out of the glare of 
this too bright sun, is it not ? In the cold 
New England it shines not thus, they say,^^ 
and placing her arm about the stranger’s 
waist, the mistress of the rancho drew her 
guest to a wide seat beneath a pepper-tree, 
around whose slender trunk were climbing 
and blooming vines unlike anything Polly 
had ever seen. 

Yet even here penetrated that half-amused, 
half-derisive cry : The little Gringo ! Be- 

hold the Gringo ! ” and again a flush darkened 
the wanderer’s cheek. 

Seeing which. Dona Dolores called : “ Que- 
dito ! Silencio, heart’s dearest ! But come, 
see the new sister arrived to share our home 
and bid her welcome. Tell her, nifio, that 
^ Gringo ’ is no word of reproach, but only 
that name by which all are known who come 
from the land of the Americanos. But come, 
instante ! ” 

At the admonition a beautiful boy slipped 
out from a group of other lads and turning a 
somersault, or a succession of them, thus ar- 
rived at the bench where his mother and Polly 


96 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

sat. The girl thought she had never seen so 
charming a child and, for the sake of his 
loveliness, promptly forgave him the nick- 
name he had called her. Indeed, she was 
soon to learn, as her hostess informed her, that 
this was the common term used to distinguish 
the easterners, or “ Americanos ” from the na- 
tive Californians, and in no sense insulting. 

With a profound obeisance similar to that 
of his brother, Jose, the graceful little fellow 
held out a rather grimy hand and bestowed 
upon his new acquaintance a stare as full of 
admiration as her own. Smiling till all his 
pearly teeth were visible he bade her Wel- 
come,’’ and still left his hand resting cozily 
within her own. 

Well pleased. Dona Dolores drew her son to 
her and pressed his shoulders affectionately ; 
then kissing his mud-streaked forehead she 
pointed to the fountain and pushed him 
gently toward it. The boy flashed back the 
merriest of smiles, ducked his head to escape 
an imaginary blow, then turned a handspring 
backward and rejoined his mates. 

“ He has but just now learned it, that vault- 
ing, and he is of it the most proud,” com- 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 97 

merited the mother, by way of explanation, 
and rising as she spoke. Then she added : 

But I am the negligent one, I. After the 
dusty ride the fresh water and the siesta. Yes. 
That should be. Found you not the wagon 
tedious, indeed ? ” 

I found it rather — -jolty and squeaky,’’ 
admitted Polly, following the lady across the 
court to the low-roofed dwelling-house on its 
further side, and beneath a wide veranda into 
a suite of cool, dimly-lighted rooms. She had 
not realized how great was the heat without 
until this grateful coolness greeted her, and 
she sighed in content at the change. 

At the end of the suite was a little chamber, 
plainly but sufficiently furnished, and con- 
taining a big, most inviting bed. There was 
no carpet on the bare floor, though a bit of 
a rug was spread beside a little prayer-desk in 
one corner. A picture of the Madonna and 
Child hung over the bed’s head, and a silver 
cruciflx stood upon the desk. 

The tiny trunk which Captain Marshall 
had procured for his charge had already been 
placed in the room, though it had arrived 
only with herself on the queer rickety wagon, 


98 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

and now, touching a bell which hung sus- 
pended near the door, Doha Dolores sum- 
moned a maid to attend the guest. 

It was an Indian woman who came, and it 
seemed to Polly that there was something 
familiar about her face, though she had never 
seen it before, and she was studying the 
servant's features while Mrs. Ysidro gave a 
few directions in Spanish to her. To each of 
these directions a respectful assent was given, 
with curtseys innumerable, and then the mis- 
tress smilingly withdrew. 

Immediately, Polly was taken in hand by 
the maid, her frock unbuttoned and slipped 
off, her yellow curls attacked by a brush and 
herself prepared as if for a night's rest. Then 
another servant entered, bearing a can of warm 
water, which she emptied into a tiny tub, and 
withdrew. 

The intention was obvious, and the little 
New Englander, now Gringo, who had not 
indulged in a daylight nap since she could 
remember, promptly followed the custom of 
this new land, taking her dip and her sleep as 
naturally as the rest of that southern house- 
hold. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 99 

When she awoke the sun was setting and 
the light curtain fluttered before the window 
in a gentle breeze. She felt wonderfully re- 
freshed and inspirited and sprang up to And 
Juana, the Indian woman, sitting erect and 
watchful at the foot of the bed. Then the 
puzzling resemblance was solved. The woman 
looked like Francisco, the Indian on Cap- 
tain Marshalhs boat. 

Why, Juana ! ” cried Polly. “ Have you 
been here all the time ? 

“ Si. Of course. Why not ? answered the 
servant, briefly. Then she rose and reexam- 
ined the three frocks, which she had spread 
out on a settle and which constituted Polly's 
entire stock. The two dark ones which she 
had brought from home had been supple- 
mented on the voyage, and by Mrs. Marshall’s 
then active Angers, by a third one of coarse 
white muslin, such as is used for bedding, and 
upon this Juana’s choice eventually fell. 
Yet she handled it with a flne disdain that 
sent a flush of anger to its owner’s cheek, re- 
membering how pretty ” Captain Mary 
Ann ” had considered it. 

However, she controlled her speech if not 
LofG. 


loo POLLY, THE GRINGO 

her thoughts, determined to avoid a quarrel 
with this copper-skinned creature who looked 
so like Francisco, and who now proceeded to 
dress her as if she had been a baby. This was 
a fresh affront to her independent spirit and 
trouble might finally have ensued had there 
not fallen upon her ears a wild uproar of 
sounds which banished every other sense than 
hearing — the neighing of countless horses, the 
shouts of excited men, and at the end the 
sharp report of firearms. With a white, 
frightened face, she turned to her grim at- 
tendant, who merely nodded and remarked : 

They have arrived. Si. Yes.’^ 


CHAPTER VI 


AN evening’s entertainment 

At Juana’s direction, Polly left her room 
by a door which gave directly upon the broad, 
vine-wreathed veranda, and found herself in 
the midst of a large company of people, sitting 
or standing about, and all chattering in the 
cheerfullest of voices, but in what, to the 
stranger, seemed a curious language. 

For a moment nobody noticed the little 
gringo,” but while she waited, shy and hesi- 
tant, a girl disengaged herself from a group of 
other young folk and advanced with out- 
stretched hand, saying : 

The daughter of Sehor Pancoast, is it not ? 
Tia Dolores bade me watch for you and make 
you known to our friends. I am Felicidad 
Castro and I live here at Santa Rosa.” 

Then followed introductions on every side 
and Polly was made the object of more atten- 
tion than she had ever received in her life. 
Instantly she reflected that her father must be 
a very great man among these Californians, 

lOI 


102 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

since they treated his daughter with such re- 
spect ; and when a few of the ladies naade 
open comment upon her “ beauty,’’ compar- 
ing her blond fairness with the darkness of 
their own children, the sensible New Eng- 
lander felt strangely flattered and elated. 

“ It’s like a wonderful fairy world and I 
feel like its princess — being so waited upon 
and called so beautiful. But there, I know 
I’m not that, else I’d have heard something 
about it before now,” she thought. 

Yet, after a moment, those who had so 
frankly admired her apparently forgot her 
and returned to their conversation with their 
neighbors, as if no interruption had occurred. 
Then she further observed that the manner of 
these Californians toward each other was 
even more deferential and flattering than it 
had been toward her, and her vanity died a 
sudden death. 

Even while she was observing this, Felicidad 
had left her and rejoined her mates without 
inviting Polly to accompany her and this 
made the stranger feel sadly out of place and 
alone. But just then a voice behind her said : 

You are to come with me, Sehorita Polly 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 103 

Pancoast, if you will so condescend. La 
madre will have you to sit beside herself at 
the supper which is served. Si. Me 
permite ? ” 

The invitation was accompanied by a series 
of bows and the touch of the lad’s hand to 
his heart, as well as a languishing glance of 
admiration which disturbed the recipient of 
the courtesies far more than brusque rudeness 
would have done. Blushing, poor Polly felt 
as if she had suddenly stepped out of child- 
hood into womanhood without knowing how 
to behave properly in the new state. Then 
she rallied her courage and, disdaining Jose’s 
proffered arm thankfully accepted the guid- 
ance of his hand, finding it difficult to thread 
her way through the various groups without 
inconvenience to some. And when they had 
gained the entrance of the great supper-room 
she paused and demanded : 

‘‘ Do tell me what all this means ? I waked 
hearing shouting and shooting and the Indian 
woman only said : ' They have arrived.’ Is 

it a party ? Or a minister’s ^ donation ’ ? Or 
what?” 

A ' donation ’ — that might be a giving — 


104 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

but I know it not. A ^ party ^ ? Maybe so. 
It is for the rodeo first, and afterward the 
merienda. What felicity ! That you have 
come in time for both. Last year the good 
Capitan also gathered the berries with us and 
made much mirth for all with his quaint 
stories of the other ocean. En verdad, he is 
our friend. We of Santa Rosa are proud to 
have friendship with honorable Americanos, 
los gringos, si. It is from them we get our 
cloths, our shoes, and dresses for the women, 
our blankets, our sugars — ah I Of many 
things we are the debtors to the ships and the 
sailors. But the merienda ! Ah ! Grow the 
red strawberries in your country, Sehorita ? 

Why, of course. But, please — donT call 
me that ‘ Sehorita.^ It makes me feel so 
strange to myself. I’ve never been anything 
but just plain Polly, and — sometimes — Mar- 
garet. That’s my real name, though I rarely 
hear it. You’re no bigger than my Roland, 
and nobody at home would think of ^ Mister- 
ing ’ or ' Senoring ’ him. I’d like to call you 
Jose, if I might. There are so many things I 
must ask about, of you, or somebody, and I 
couldn’t waste time saying what that other 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 105 

girl called you as we passed her on the piazza : 
^ Senor Jose Crisostimo Maria Antonio YsidroJ 
And are all those names really yours? ” 

The boy threw back his handsome head and 
laughed as unaffectedly as Roland might have 
done, and in that laughter Polly forgot his 
mannerisms, which seemed to her so absurdly 
affected ” but which were, in reality, as 
natural to him as her own simplicity to her. 

She is a tease, that Inez ! But you will 
see, en verdad. Once I laughed — shame to 
my rudeness — when she tried to fling the 
riata like a man and failed. Her little wrists 
were too small and she — but she has the 
temper, si! She is always of the regret that 
she was not the son of her mother and not 
the daughter. You will love Inez. She is 
all fire and tenderness. To her mother, the 
invalid, no one so gentle, and the father — 
dead of an Indian’s arrow when she was so 
high. But, la madre 1 She calls. Caramba ! 
I did forget for what I was sent, and it is the 

fault — if fault can be in so charming ” 

Here the lad made another of his profound 
salutations, again laying his hand upon his 
heart, and looking into Polly’s face with an 


io6 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

absurd mimicry of admiration. For Polly 
recognized, instantly, that it was but a mim- 
icry of the manner of his elders and that, in 
reality, he didn’t care a Continental,” as 
Jonathan would have expressed it, for her 
or any other girl.” 

But she could see Dona Dolores beckoning 
to them and that the entire company was on 
the way to the table ; and wondering where so 
many could be seated or if there would be 
enough of food to go around ” she now hastily 
made her own way to her hostess’ side and 
slipped into the place adjoining hers. 

Even while her attention was distracted by 
the care of seating her other guests, the lady 
found time for a word and a smile to Polly, 
who appreciated both and showed that she did 
by saying : 

Thank you, Mrs. Ysidro, for being so good 
to me.” 

Thereafter the little gringo had neither 
loneliness nor any other feeling save that of 
wonderment, for in truth the scene was to her 
a picture of “ fairy-land.” Candles innumer- 
able, augmented by the picturesque hanging 
lamps, cast a radiance almost dazzling over 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 107 

the beautifully-spread table, with its plate and 
glass — of priceless value, since it had been 
brought long before from far-away Spain and 
could never be replaced. Charming women 
in evening dress, such as Polly had never be- 
fore seen ; and men in short knee-breeches 
and deerskin leggings, enriched by gold or 
silver lace, a sash knotted about the waist and 
surmounted by a jacket and vest gayly deco- 
rated with buttons of the same glittering gold. 
As for the young folks, they were but smaller 
editions of their elders, though the girls were, 
invariably, in white. But, alas ! white with 
such a difference from the stranger’s own at- 
tire, with its long sleeves, its high neck, its 
ungraceful big skirt — made to grow in ” — 
and suggesting now, even to its once proud 
owner, nothing so much as a nightgown. 

She was clever enough to note this at once 
but no longer felt annoyed, for her eyes and 
her ears were open to the novelty of her situa- 
tion and her one thought, after each fresh 
surprise : Oh ! if Roland, or dear Aunt 

Mercy could only see this ! ” 

There seemed almost as many servants as 
guests, and these were mostly Indians, Mis- 


io8 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

sion trained and lifetime members of the 
household, though here and there a Mexican 
moved among them, deft, solicitous, and as 
talkative as his fellows were silent. Since 
even that big table would not accommodate 
all the visitors, many of the gentlemen perched 
in the deep embrasures of the windows or 
walked about, carrying their cups with them and 
attended by the servants with trays and dishes. 

As for the food itself, it was all strange to 
Polly, so disguised with spices and sauces 
were the great roasts of beef, the chickens, the 
fish and the game, and she wondered what 
that famous cook, Mrs. Hallock, would have 
thought of the repast. For bread there were 
tortillas, or little cakes of meal, while the fa- 
vorite dish of all seemed to be something 
called tamales, and which Dona Dolores had 
the secret of providing all the year round — 
in and out of season. These were made of 
corn and minced chicken, highly seasoned 
with pepper, and boiled in corn husks and 
even the absorbed Polly found time to taste 
and enjoy one, though it seemed to her that 
the hot feeling would never again leave 
her unaccustomed palate. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 109 

The talk about her was all of the rodeo, an 
event to take place on the morrow, and for 
which the visiting rancheros had assembled 
at Santa Rosa ; but Polly got little idea of its 
meaning until, the supper over and the guests 
betaking themselves out of doors, the girl who 
had been pointed out to her as Inez Peralta 
suddenly appeared beside her, saying : 

Please come with me. I want to know 
you. I like you even already in truth, yes, 
why not ? I am in love with los gringos — so 
clever and alert. I shall sail me to that Bos- 
ton, on the other side the world, some day, 
when my mother is well. Come to see her. 
The dearest, most beautiful in all the world. 
En verdad. Si.'^ 

Polly looked around into the gayest, mer- 
riest of girlish faces, which might be for- 
eign ” indeed in its coloring and type, but was 
wholly natural and familiar in its mischiev- 
ousness and good fellowship. Her answer 
was an outstretched hand and the exclamation : 

“ And how I do like you ! I did the mo- 
ment I saw you and heard you teasing that 
Jose. You — youTe just like a girl — any girl 
— from Woodley ! Oh ! I am so glad ! ” 


no POLLY, THE GRINGO 

They were arm and arm about each other’s 
waists, in an instant, exchanging confidences 
at breakneck speed, and the more freely on 
Polly’s part, because this was the first girl of 
her own age with whom she had spoken since 
her last day in Miss Brown’s school. Find- 
ing an empty bench in a far corner of the 
court Inez drew her new friend down beside 
her and asked : 

How came you to our California, you ? 
With no madre nor padre nor — nor any of 
your family ? Because that is what dear 
Dona Dolores told me when she sent me to 
you — that you had none, none now, save 
yourself. Are you not afraid, you ? ” 

Not now. I was — but not enough afraid 
to keep me from doing a — a dreadful thing. 
Did Mrs. Ysidro tell you, also, that I was a — 
a runaway ? ” 

“ No, indeed no. She told me but this : 
that you were lovely — which I could see for 
myself; that you were alone — as I am, save 
for the poor madre ; that you were unlike Fe- 
licidad — for which, gracias ! and that you 
were to stay at Santa Rosa until the Capitan, 
the sobrecargo of that fine Columbia, returns. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO iii 

He buys our hides and tallow, yes, that gen- 
erous sobrecargo and he pays la madre over 
price because — because she, too, is alone. Oh 1 
yes. We all love that Mistaire Pan coast, el 
Capitan, at San Pablo. Si. En veritas.’^ 

This was sweet praise to Polly’s ears and 
drew from her without reservation the whole 
story of her coming to California and, indeed, 
of all her life. When she paused for breath 
only, Inez exclaimed : 

I see it I I see it ! The queer hard moun- 
tains close at hand — think of living amid the 
snow, like that ! I see the little tia, the aunt, 
with the white curls and the cap upon them. 
I see the so funny Jonatan and the sharp- 
tongued Marta — yes, yes ! I see it all ! And 
some day, when you go back and madre mia 
is well, I will go with you. As strange that 
to me cold country as this so warm one to 
you. But, hark ! What is that ? Fun is 
going ! Come, come, come quick ! Instante ! ” 
With a bound Inez was away, dragging 
Polly with her and meeting Jose searching 
for them, also on the alert for something un- 
usual that was happening. Swiftly, in his 
curious mingling of Spanish and English, 


1 12 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

and now without any unnecessary flourish, he 
informed the girls that Tomas, the head cook 
of the establishment, had demanded his peri- 
odical whipping and that Don Santiago was 
to administer it publicly, for the amusement 
of his guests and the proud satisfaction of 
Tomas. 

“ He asked to be whipped I cried Polly, 
amazed and indignant. 

Si. But why look like that? It is his 
own desire. He is the best cook for leagues 
around — trained at the Mission, serving at 
Santa Rosa here, since ever Dona Dolores was 
married. Twice in the year comes our Tomas 
to the master with the rope in hand and im- 
plores the flogging. Let Don Santiago refuse, 
what of that ? It is Tomas must be whipped 
or no more good dinners will be on the long 
table. You ate the supper now. Was it not 
fine? But I, to me never yet was the so 
funny sight, though often I have longed for 
it. Never before it happened with the Peral- 
tas at Santa Rosa. No. Haste, haste.^’ 

Everywhere there was laughter and mirth- 
ful expectation, and the guitars and violins 
which had kept up a running accompaniment 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 113 

of music from one side or the other, suddenly 
were silent. Even the random popping of 
firearms into the air, or the tests of sharp- 
shooting, such as had saluted Polly’s ears on 
her awakening, were no longer heard from 
the vaqueros’ quarters, all of the men hurry- 
ing forward to witness the absurd spectacle 
about to take place. 

After a moment, Don Santiago strode for- 
ward from the veranda into an open space 
in the centre of the court which had been de- 
serted to give room for the whipping ; and at 
the same instant from the detached kitchen 
on the north side marched Tomas, clad only 
in his breech cloth and with his arms folded 
upon his breast. Instinctively there was a 
hush, then a murmur of admiration, as the 
two men faced each other, magnificent types 
of widely differing races. Then said Senor 
Ysidro, curtly : 

Is it necessary, Tomas, my friend ? ” 

Si. The evil one is in me. Drive him 
out.” 

Then the ranchero raised his whip, and 
there was such a mighty swishing through 
the air that Polly shuddered and hid her face 


1 14 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

on Inez’ shoulder who, daring as she was, yet 
shivered a little ; though she forced herself to 
look on at what had promised to be “ fun,” 
but now suggested tragedy. 

However, there was no real tragedy about 
the affair, save in the outward bearing of the 
opposing men. Don Santiago took excellent 
care to make his heaviest blows fall where the 
cloth upon his servant’s body was thickest, 
and to waste all their vigor by a preliminary 
flourish. Twenty was the number of lashes 
administered, and had been determined by the 
chastised Indian himself ; he apparently firmly 
believing that without this symbol of the 
white man’s authority over him he would be 
inspired to do not only execrable cooking but, 
maybe, far worse. 

He adored the Ysidro family but, as he 
himself often said, he was still an Indian,” 
that is, an enemy ” ; but he now, as the 
whipping ceased, felt that he was secured 
from his own treachery for another half-year, 
and instead of feeling humiliation in his pun- 
ishment, was thankful that there were so 
many witnesses to his subjugation. 

As the last stroke fell, Senor Ysidro bowed 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 115 

courteously to his cook, who returned the 
salutation by dropping his chin on his breast 
and emitting an indescribable grunt. Then 
he turned upon his heel and stalked away to 
his own place, while the hubbub of voices and 
laughter immediately broke forth on every 
side ; and when Polly gained courage to lift 
her head and look about her, her host was 
exclaiming, in relief : 

Buen’ ! That is over and done with. May 
good result ! ” 

The chill of the night air soon drove all 
within doors, and as Inez left her to attend 
her mother, Polly found herself once more 
alone and the object of amused criticism from 
one group of young people with Felicidad as 
its centre. These were older than herself and 
more full of airs, as the New England girl 
pronounced them, than their elders whom 
they imitated, and she felt with a sinking 
heart that if she were to be a housemate of 
Miss Castro for any length of time she might 
have many uncomfortable moments. She 
wished it might be the frank, lovable Inez 
instead, then rebuked herself for being en- 
vious, thinking : 


ii6 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

“ It’s only because they have all such pretty 
manners, Polly Pancoast ; and you are as 
^ plain as a pipe-stem,’ and know it, and are 
jealous, that you notice such things. Why 
shouldn’t that Felicidad — whose name means 
‘ happiness,’ and who looks as fretful as — as 
Martha on a wet wash-day — why shouldn’t 
she stick to those old friends and leave me 
alone? Maybe I’d do the same under the 
same circumstances, though if I’d ever been 
in danger of it I shan’t be after this lesson. 
The way she looks at my clothes makes me 
feel — horrid ! Poor Mrs. Marshall, bless her 
dear heart ! thought she was making this 
frock so beautiful, and said it would ^ wear 
like iron,’ and would ^ last me for years by let- 
ting tucks out of the skirt.’ I guess she was 
right. It will ^ last for years ’ without any 
wear or tuck-letting if I can help it. And 
I’m glad Captain Marshall gave me that 
money. I hated to take it, I felt so inde- 
pendent, but I’m beginning to find out that 
grown-up people do know more — or, at least, 
as much as I do I That’s lesson number two. 
Miss Margaret ! and ” 

Leaning her tired head against the door- 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 117 

frame and avoiding the critical glances of 
Felicidad and her friends simply by looking 
at the floor, Polly smiled at her own self- 
reproval and was startled when a hand was 
laid on her shoulder and a gentle voice in- 
quired : 

‘‘ Can you tell me your thoughts, nifia mia? 
They were amusing ones, were they not ? For 
you were smiling at yourself, though your 
blue eyes long for the sleep which shall keep 
them bright. Most of the other children are 
abed, and you are at liberty to go, also, if you 
choose. Shall I send Juanita to you? She 
is Juana^s child, a little maid of your own 
age, and I am her fond comadre.’^ 

Thank you, Mrs. Ysidro, I shall be glad 
to go. At home I would have been sent long 
ago, not ^ permitted ^ as you say. But I don’t 
need anybody to help me. I can wait upon 
myself. I have done so always, if I can find 
my room.” 

The lady smiled, held up a finger, and in 
answer to this summons Juanita came to 
them, stepping noiselessly over the bare boards 
in her moccasined feet and turning upon Dona 
Dolores a look of loving admiration ; and 


ii8 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

when that lady laid a caressing touch upon 
the Indian maid’s smooth head a flush of 
happiness stole over the servant’s face which 
transformed its plainness into something like 
beauty. 

“Juanita, while the Senorita Margareta 
Pancoast remains at Santa Rosa, and may the 
time be long ! you are to serve her as you 
would serve me — out of your good heart. 
Good-night, both, and good sleep.” 

Polly wondered what a “ comadre ” was ; 
also how Mrs. Ysidro had learned her real 
name ; how that watchful hostess managed 
her untiring look out for everybody’s comfort 
and happiness as she seemed to do, yet kept 
that quiet, dignified manner of entire leisure ; 
and how there was going to be room in one 
house for so many people to sleep. 

Juanita proved even more insistently help- 
ful than her mother, Juana, had been earlier 
in the day, and rendered her services so 
eagerly that Polly could but accept them as 
freely as they were offered. It was odd to 
have somebody else brush out her curls at 
bedtime, and to have her clothing removed 
and put away ; but stranger still to feel herself 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 119 

respectfully prevented from kneeling at her 
bedside for her prayers, while she was as firmly 
propelled to the little cushion before the 
prayer-desk. 

Her Puritan training was startled by the 
idea of praying before a crucifix, yet, when 
she would have risen to her feet again, one 
glance at the face of the Indian maid re- 
strained her. 

Juanita stood with bowed head and closed 
eyes, rapidly telling her beads from the rosary 
hanging about her neck, which was her 
christening gift and now her dearest earthly 
possession. 

I can’t hurt her feelings and, after all, I 
know it’s the same God we both worship ; ” 
thought Polly, and finished her devotions in a 
broader spirit of charity than she had ever 
known before. 

After that followed a night of dreamless 
slumber, undisturbed by the late hours of the 
grown up guests, with their music and gayety, 
or the occasional sharp-shooting of some am- 
bitious vaquero. Juanita shared her new 
mistress’ chamber, sleeping on a mattress 
spread on the floor before the door, so that 


120 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

any one entering would have had to step upon 
or over, her prostrate body. But the window 
was wide open, so that it must have been from 
custom, not for protection, that this spot was 
chosen by the attendant, who made no sound 
until she heard Polly stirring in her bed. 
Then she was instantly upon her feet, ready 
for any service and responding with a grave, 
pleased smile to the gay “ good-morning ” the 
gringo gave her. 

Buen’ dias ! I will the bath prepare,” 
said Juanita, vanishing as she spoke. 

“ Well, these Californians certainly mean 
folks to keep clean ! ” cried Polly, running 
from her bed to the rear window and looking 
out to the wide mesa surrounding the house, 
where the greenness of the spring-time had 
not yet been parched by the summer heat. 

For a moment she saw only the glorious 
landscape, then suddenly became aware that 
somebody was speaking near by ; and leaning 
over the sill discovered the woman, Juana, in 

earnest conversation with Could it be 

Francisco ? 

Some words of Captain MarshalPs flashed 
into her mind as she recognized that it was 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 121 


her old shipmate, although his face was 
turned from her. The Captain had said : 

“ That long-legged FTisco never goes ashore 
except at San Diego and then on a mischief- 
errand. He’s all right and straight to me, 
because once I happened to save his life when 
he was set upon by a parcel of drunken 
Greasers. He followed me back to the Mary 
Ann and he’s never quit her since, only for 
trouble. Somebody, some white man, some 
time and in some place, has done him an in- 
jury, and he’ll keep that grudge and nurse it 
into a wicked revenge — that’s certain. An 
Indian’s an Indian, Mission raised or other- 
wise. Can’t trust ’em no more’n the rattle- 
snakes they have lived amongst.” 

Juana was pleading with Francisco, or 
seemed to be doing so, and producing no 
effect ; for as he slipped stealthily away from 
her, keeping close in the shadow of the adobe, 
she clasped her hands and shook her head as 
if in despair. Nor did she lift her keen eyes 
to the casement where Polly watched, though 
she passed close beneath it, reentering the 
house. Was Francisco on a “mischief-errand” 
now? And what was he to Juana? 


CHAPTER VII 


THE RODEO 

Before Polly had finished dressing, an op- 
eration much sooner accomplished had she 
been allowed to manage it unaided, but seri- 
ously delayed by her objections to Juanita^s 
well meant attentions, there was a merry : 

Buen’ dias ! at the second window, which 
opened on the porch, and there was Inez look- 
ing as fresh as the brilliant morning itself. 

Good-day, good-day ! How is it you say 
it?’’ returned Polly running to greet the girl, 
who met her half-way by leaping over the 
sill and skipping across the fioor. She was 
already in riding costume, a jaunty velvet cap 
resting on her dark hair and her long skirt 
gathered over her arm, revealing dainty little 
breeches and leggings beneath. It was the 
girl’s desire to be as free as a boy ” in her 
movements and her pleasure would have been 
to discard the skirt entirely. This she was 
not permitted to do, for the Californians were 


122 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 123 

sticklers for propriety and a mannish girl was 
a thing wholly unknown. 

“ Why, Inez ! How sweet you look ! What 
a lovely habit ! Are you going riding? Surely, 
oh ! surely, you aren’t going away, to that 
San Pablo where you live?” cried Polly, dis- 
tressed at the thought of losing this lively 
companion. 

“ Going home, already ? Is it that you ask ? 
Why, indeed no ! We have but just come, 
and it is months we stay at Santa Rosa, la 
madre and I. Doha Dolores would be heart- 
broken if we called only to tarry the night. 
The dear comadre I I couldn’t grieve her like 
that. En verdad, indeed, no. You amaze 
me. In your country do people, the guests, 
the friends, arrive and depart between the 
setting and the rising of the sun? Eh ? ” 

Polly’s face lengthened. “ I’m afraid they 
do, sometimes. Why, my own dear father. 
Captain Pancoast, who hadn’t seen any of us 
in five years and whom I’ve followed away 
around two oceans, nearly, just to get ac- 
quainted with, so to speak, he — he stayed but 
a half day and — and Aunt Mercy was thank- 
ful for even that much of a visit.” 


124 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

What a shame ! It was an insult, a what 
you call it? a disgracia 1 Well, I would not 
have followed anybody who treated me like 
that, I ! But, no matter. I am not now of 
so great mind to visit that Boston town, for 
it must be of a cold-hearted people they make 
it. Yet you, querida mia, you are not of the 
cold blood, ah ! no ! For already we have the 
great love to each other, is it not ? ’’ 

Then with an ecstatic hug of the promptly 
responding Polly, Inez held the other off a bit 
and regarded her worn frock with disfavor. 
It was one of those brought from Woodley, 
and a sea trip of several thousand miles had 
not improved its appearance. Yet it was not 
of the faded gown Inez thought, but that 
there was a mistake in wearing it that morn- 
ing. Her reproof was, however, administered 
to Juanita, who seemed half-frightened and 
wholly humbled by the torrent of words, few 
of which Polly could understand. 

Then, by the way she had entered and 
almost as swiftly, the lively girl departed and 
Juanita followed, but more sedately. 

Left alone, Polly made brief work of finish- 
ing her toilet and had set about making the 



INEZ DREW HER FRIEND INTO THP: SALON 


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POLLY, THE GRINGO 125 

bed, after the careful industry in which she 
had been reared, when the two returned, 
Juanita carrying another habit of lnez\ and 
its owner staring in surprise at the nimble- 
fingered easterner. 

“Caramba! Why do you do that? Is it 
not a task for her?’^ pointing to the Indian 
maid, demanded the heiress of San Pablo. 
Then, forgetting this unimportant matter in 
the larger one, commanded : “ Put on the 
habit, at once. It will suit you as it does me. 
En verdad. Behold. We are of the same 
height, of the same figure, we. How good ! 

Petted and caressed as if she were the be- 
stower, not the recipient of a favor, the little 
gringo found herself whirled out of her own 
gown and petticoats and into the things Inez 
had procured. Both the white-faced girls 
were shrieking with laughter over each stage 
of the proceedings, while even the phlegmatic 
Indian maid smiled now and then ; and when 
the change of costume was finished, Inez drew 
her amazed friend into the great salon where 
was the only mirror the house contained and 
where were already assembled many guests, 
awaiting the breakfast summons. 


126 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Posing the blushing Polly, who again found 
herself a centre of too much observation, Inez 
bade her lift her eyes and behold herself re- 
flected in all her beauty.” 

Shamefaced, but curious, the victim of Inez’ 
caprice obeyed and scarcely recognized herself, 
her appearance was so altered by the clothes 
she wore. Then again she was hurried away, 
awkwardly tripping over her long skirt and 
vainly trying to lift and carry it as gracefully 
as the Californian did ; and it was not until 
they reached the breakfast room and a table 
expressly arranged for the younger visitors 
that she found opportunity to ask : 

‘‘But, Inez dear, what is it all for? Why 
do you wish me to wear this rig? ” 

“Why? For the rodeo, en veritas, sweet 
silly one. As for me, I mean to be as near 
the vaqueros and their operations as I am 
allowed — a little nearer, if nobody is looking. 
Ah ! the rodeo that I have longed for all my 
life but have been kept a child from until 
now. Oh ! to be a man for this one day 1 
And I should be, for am I not the only child 
of my mother and she a widow ? Ah ! What 
a pity ! ” 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 127 

Inez Peralta ! You disgrace your fam- 
ily ! ” warned Felicidad from the head of the 
table, then bestowing a cold though perfectly 
courteous Good-morning upon Polly, who 
was more chilled by the salutation than she 
would have been by the absence of it. 

“ Hola ! I forgot nothing I should remem- 
ber, Cousin Felicidad. It is you yourself for- 
get that the good Dios gave to women their 
hearts, to use them in the happiness of others. 
Also, where there is so much ‘ family ’ in one’s 
head there is little fun in one’s life. For me 
— I will the fun keep, and it is a poor family, 
en verdad ! that cannot keep itself. No mat- 
ter. Each to her taste and — serve me my cof- 
fee, please, fair Senorita, lest I come serve my- 
self!” 

Others joined those already at breakfast, 
each coming and leaving without ceremony, 
and all eager for the day’s event ; and after a 
scanty meal — for who could eat when there was 
something so much better to do? — the two 
girls hurried out of doors, where already was 
great excitement and a louder hubbub of 
voices than ever. 

Now, for our horses 1 Jose I Mateo 1 Vin- 


128 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

cente ! Send a vaquero with Cremo, please ! 
And what’s for Polly, the guest? ” cried Inez, 
beckoning to her hostess’ sons and to her 
cousin, Felicidad’s brother, who came reluc- 
tantly, loath to leave the more interesting talk 
of the men to serve a pair of insignificant 
girls. However, the invariable courtesy re- 
quired of Californian lads toward women pre- 
vented the gloomy Vincente from revealing 
what he really felt, and with a vaquero lead- 
ing a small piebald horse he approached Polly 
and bowed so profoundly that his sombrero 
swept the ground, as he said : 

At your service, Senorita. It was Don 
Santiago himself selected Nineto for your use, 
to-day, and forever while you remain our 
most honored guest. Me permite ? ” 

Polly had already become accustomed to 
what she termed the flourishy manners ” of 
her new acquaintances, but she failed to un- 
derstand why Vincente should stoop and hold 
his open palm so near the ground and her 
own foot, as if waiting for something further 
than the simple “ Thank you ” she had spoken. 
Also, she looked with dismay at the antics of 
the pretty calico pony ” which the vaquero 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 129 

held by its bridle and vainly attempted to 
keep quiet for her to mount. All her life she 
had been in the habit of riding, but never an 
animal wilder than old Kate, whose gentle am- 
ble was as safe as Aunt Mercy’s Pilgrim rocker. 

Hesitating, she glanced at Inez, for whom 
Jose was offering a similar service to Vin- 
cente’s, saw the girl’s foot lightly rest upon 
the lad’s hand as with a spring she vaulted 
into her saddle upon Cremo’s back. A copy- 
book maxim flashed into the easterner’s mind : 

When in Rome do as the Romans do ” ; 
and the surprise at her hesitancy visible upon 
her escort’s face roused her pride. Not for 
anything now would she let that arrogant 
youth suspect that she was afraid ! The beau- 
tiful Nineto looked wicked enough for any 
misbehavior, but, I can’t break my neck but 
once ! ” thought Polly, and followed Inez’ ex- 
ample. 

Why ! how easy that was ! ” she exclaimed, 
as she touched the saddle and Nineto, for the 
instant, stopped fidgeting. “ Easier than a 
horse-block or a manger,” she added, but had 
time for no more, for Nineto suddenly leaped 
forward like an arrow. 


130 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Cremo, also, had galloped out to the plain 
beyond the buildings, where were gathered a 
great number of horsemen, with a rapidly in- 
creasing party of women, all finely mounted 
and the latter apparently as much at home in 
their saddles as were their husbands and 
brothers. Indeed, in those early California 
days, everybody rode, and as a matter of 
course ; walking, even for short distances, 
being the exception to this custom. 

These rancheros and their ladies were mostly 
but spectators of the rodeo, a few participating 
in it merely for the sport, and their equip- 
ments were in rich contrast to those of the 
vaqueros by whom the real work was done. 
About the latter, or their horses, was no use- 
less article, everything not required for the 
strenuous task in hand being dispensed with. 

The air was full of excitement and enthusi- 
asm, and even Cremo^s swift pace taxed Inez’ 
patience as she made her way to the furthest 
limit of the space allotted to the onlookers. 
Turning she was delighted to find Polly close 
behind her and exclaimed : 

“ Oh ! I’m so glad you’re a good rider. I 
thought you looked afraid of Nineto and, 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 131 

Caramba ! that boy, Vincente, was so cross I 
knew he’d never bother to hunt up another 
horse. He’s a beauty, is he not? Si. En 
verdad. But not like Cremo, my pet, my 
heart’s dearest, my darling ! ” 

With that the girl leaned forward and 
stroked Cremo’s yellow mane as caressingly as 
if the animal had been a human being and, 
in truth, a heart’s dearest.” 

“ I — I was afraid,” gasped Polly, as Nineto 
once more began that uncomfortable curvet- 
ing about which had rendered mounting so 
difficult, but which Inez now remarked was 
“ nothing but his childishness.” Adding, by 
way of encouragement : “Be sure that Don 
Santiago sees for himself what horses are given 
to the women, though most everybody has her 
own. Nineto is a silly little thing, proud of 
his good looks and high of the spirit. Yes, 

yes, indeed. But a thoroughbred Ah ! 

one can always depend on a thoroughbred, 
two-footed or four. Skittish in time of peace, 
but true as steel in a time of need. Ah ! 
yes ! ” concluded this dainty philosopher of 
fourteen. 

“ True as preachin’,” affirmed a rough voice 


132 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

behind the girls, and so suddenly that even 
the self-poised Inez started slightly, though 
she would not look around nor betray by any 
curiosity that she was herself aught but 
thoroughbred/’ 

Polly had no such proud scruples and 
shrieked ; at which Nineto made a prodigious 
spring into the air, for nothing at all but his 
own coltish whims, and in the rebound whirled 
about to face the intruder. From sheer 
strength and fright his rider stuck to her sad- 
dle and was rewarded by a gruff guffaw and 
the observation : 

“ Make a rider. Easier than a California 
wagon.” 

“ Oh ! Luther Dowie ! How you frightened 
us ! ” cried Polly. 

“ You ! ” corrected Inez, still motionless and 
controlling Cremo to an attitude of marble. 
In her heart the little Californian resented the 
attendance of this plain eastern hireling when 
his place should have been filled by somebody 
who liked fun.” La madre had arranged 
that her adventurous child should not be un- 
attended on this exciting day, but-— -an old 
man who jerked his words out as if they hurt 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 133 

him and who was so stupidly uninteresting ! 
Why should a girl be left to him ? 

But this Luther, so like the familiar ‘‘ hired 
man ” of a Woodley homestead, was the very 
guardian Polly would have chosen. If he did 
jerk out his words they were plain “ Yankee ” 
and to the point. Besides, she meant to gain 
from him the information concerning her 
father and brother, as to their present where- 
abouts and plans, which she had not yet ob- 
tained from others. Luther was himself also 
a gringo and she was sure must be the Cap- 
tain^s friend. In her satisfaction, Polly 
turned a beaming face upon him, exclaiming : 

Oh 1 I am so glad you have come with us ! 

I want to ask you 

Chito ! Behold ! They start ! inter- 
rupted the eager Inez, pointing her whip to- 
ward the groups of men now separating from 
the general crowd and with a long, easy lope 
guiding their horses into the uplands about 
the rodeo ground, to bring in the great herds 
of wild cattle roaming there. Other men were 
leading a few cabestros, or tame cattle, to the 
parada, or stand, a short distance from the 
circular space allotted for the rodeo. These 


134 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

cabestros had spikes inserted in their horns to 
which other unruly beasts could be fastened 
by ropes, if need arose, and were themselves 
used to inspire the untamed herds with confi- 
dence. 

The cattle of many different owners were in 
the herd to be rounded up that day, and sev- 
eral of the rancheros had brought their own 
vaqueros and cabestros, each establishing his 
own parada ; and for a time it seemed to Polly 
that the affair was a great ado about nothing 
at all. As the animals were gathered into the 
rodeo, the herders rode in pairs among them, 
quietly selected the creatures which bore their 
own ranch-brand, and drove them to their 
respective paradas. Uneasy at first, the wild 
things gradually became contented, as more 
and more of their pasture-mates joined them, 
and Polly would have turned to Luther with 
her own questions had he been able to give 
her so much as one glance. 

He was not. All his attention was centred 
on the rodeo and he was evidently expectant 
of something livelier to come. Then, sud- 
denly, a grunt of satisfaction escaped him and 
the little easterner’s gaze followed his. An 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 135 

unruly bull had darted from the herd and 
back toward the hills from whence he had 
come ; while in pursuit of him galloped two 
vaqueros. Although the bull had the advan- 
tage of the start, the horses were fleeter than 
he and, gaining upon him, one of the men 
leaned forward, caught the creature by the 
tail, urged his horse to a greater speed, and 
with a jerk releasing his hold, sent the cap- 
tured beast rolling over and over upon the 
ground. When it regained its legs the animal 
was completely subdued and gave no further 
trouble. It had been an exciting moment, 
and had established the vaquero’s skill. 

Oh ! the flne colliar ! ” cried Inez, clap- 
ping her hands. “ I hope there will be many, 
many wild ones like that to capture, and ah 1 
If I were a man — to ride like that 1 

Settled that critter’s hash ! ” commented 
Luther in equal delight. 

Polly did not share their sentiment. To 
her this rodeo seemed a cruel, brutal thing. 
As the vaqueros brought in the unmarked 
cattle they were clipped and branded with 
hot irons in the symbol of the rancho to 
which the rodeo “judge ” decided each be- 


136 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

longed. The lowings of the cows over their 
tortured calves, the bleatings of the latter, 
and the pitiful licking of their babies^ wounds 
by the bovine mothers ; the often dangerous 
outbreak of some ferocious wild bull, rushing 
with lowered head and ominous bellowings 
upon the vaquero who pursued him ; with the 
frequent colliars — all these things distressed 
the unaccustomed easterner, till, tiring of the 
scene which on account of the fine horse- 
manship displayed was so fascinating to Inez, 
she asked Luther : Will they ever finish ? 
How long will it take to look at all those 
cattle ? How many are there ? More than in 
the whole dear old state of Maine, it seems to 
me ! ” 

“ Five six thousand. Three days,’’ was his 
concise answer. 

“ Three — whole — days ! How horrible ! ” 

“ Like skinnin’ eels. Nothin’ — once used 
to it.” 

Disgusted with his indifference, Polly 
turned upon Inez, demanding, ^‘How long 
must I stay here ? ” 

'' Guay ! See ! See ! A-ah 1 ” 

The girl was leaning forward over Cremo’s 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 137 

head, intently gazing into the distance, her 
hand upraised for silence, and her mobile face 
white with terror. 

A belated party of vaqueros had been 
slowly approaching from the south, driving 
their own cabestros with them, and preceded 
by their employer, who rode apart attended by 
a single companion, a slender lad in exag- 
gerated trappings, a burlesque copy of the Don 
beside him. Thus much Polly had already 
observed with an idle interest, glad of any 
diversion from this rodeo business which she 
so disliked. For a moment she had forgotten 
them, but following Inez’ gaze now saw that 
the two foremost riders had gained the large 
company about the rodeo ground, that the 
youthful Caballero was even more extrava- 
gantly attired than at first appeared, and that 
— there was trouble ! 

For an instant the little gringo could only 
guess at what this trouble might be. She 
stared intently, trying to discover why that 
furious wild steer, those flying lassos, and the 
crowding horsemen should be mingled in one 
such undistinguishable mess. 

Another second, and the astonished Nineto 


138 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

was being hurried forward at breakneck 
speed, his rider rising in her stirrup as 
if thus to hasten him, while her face grew 
deathly white, and it seemed as if her heart 
had ceased to beat. 

There was the pounding of heavy hoofs be- 
hind her, but Polly did not hear them, and so 
mad was her onrush that even those wild 
riders, gathered about a prostrate man, 
opened their ranks to admit her as one who 
had a prior right. With a gesture, she waved 
them all aside, and went down upon her knees 
beside the youth whom she had ridiculed, 
clasping him in her arms and calling to him 
in an agony of grief : 

“ Roland ! Roland I My brother 1 


CHAPTER VIII 


A STRANGE REUNION 

Don^t, Polly ! Sweetheart, beloved of 
my soul, querida mia ! The boy isn’t — he 
can’t be — he shall not be — be hurt ! Not 
much, oh ! not much ! Ah ! poor sister, thus 
to find your brother ! ” wailed Inez, who had 
come to the spot almost as quickly as the 
other and who was now trying to draw her 
friend away. For not only she but all who 
looked on the white, bruised face of the mo- 
tionless lad believed that he was dead. 

Then both the girls were quietly but firmly 
put aside and Luther bent above the injured 
Roland, examining him with a skill and ra- 
pidity which seemed professional. Soon he 
rose and remarked : 

Alive. House. Immediate.” 

Willing hands promptly made a stretcher 
of somebody’s blanket and four men taking 
the corners of this, Roland was gently but 
swiftly carried to the house, where Dona Do- 
lores, upon the veranda, saw them coming, 
139 


140 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

foreboded disaster, and instantly prepared 
for it. 

Arm in arm, Polly and Inez paced silently 
beside the stretcher, with eyes fastened upon 
the lad’s unconscious face. But even in her 
anxiety the little gringo marvelled afresh at 
her hostess’ readiness and composure, hearing 
her speak in cheerful tones and seeing the 
couch made ready for the injured person, who- 
ever that might be. 

Upon one of the horses always in waiting at 
the stables she had already dispatched a serv- 
ant into the town to summon a doctor, who 
would lose no time in responding to any call 
from Santa Rosa. Meanwhile, Luther’s big, 
but no longer awkward, hands were busily 
stripping from his patient his unfamiliar and, 
doubtless, uncomfortable clothing, and his ex- 
pression as he did so was one of amused 
contempt. 

Turkey-fowl, aping a peacock,” he re- 
marked to anybody who chose to hear ; drop- 
ping the gay sash, the decorated leggings, and 
the heavily be-buttoned vest, from the tips of 
his fingers to the floor as if they were the 
veriest rags instead of being, as they chanced. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 141 

the richest of their sort their owner could 
procure. 

As yet she did not know this and resented 
Luther’s manner hotly. Then she remem- 
bered how gentle was his handling of the in- 
jured boy and how promptly he had hurried 
to her side upon the rodeo ground. Indeed, 
when the doctor arrived he approved all that 
the ranchman had done and gave it as his 
opinion that Roland would eventually re- 
cover, although his long time of unconscious- 
ness added a grave feature to the case. 

“ How did it happen ? What hurt him ? ” 
he asked of Luther, who only shook his head 
in ignorance. 

Nobody ever did know, exactly. Roland’s 
inexperience and the too elaborate accoutre- 
ments of his untried horse had their share in 
the matter. There had been some sudden 
jumble of other horses, cattle, and men, and 
Roland had been thrown from his saddle to 
the ground. The cut of a horseshoe upon his 
temple showed how narrow had been his es- 
cape from instant death, and the marvel of it. 

During all the rest of that great rodeo, in 
which he had anticipated taking a conspicu- 


142 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

ous part, though in wholly another fashion, 
the lad lay motionless on his bed in the most 
remote chamber of the big dwelling, attended 
by an almost equally silent Luther, who 
rarely left the room, and by Polly who would 
not have left it at all, had not Doha Dolores 
insisted that she should. 

Once she asked the faithful nurse how he 
came to know so much about sickness, and he 
answered tersely, Part natur’, part love.’^ 
What do you mean ? ” 

Brother once. Tout his size. Run over. 
Haycart. Laid months. I studied with the 
doctor. Might have made one myself — if he 
hadn’t got well.” 

“ Then he did get well ! ” cried the sister 
of this other “ brother,” eagerly. “ But you 
shouldn’t have given up the doctor-business. 
I know you would have been a fine one.” 

“ No. ‘ Jack-of-all-trades,’ no shakes in 
none. Tried every way of earnin’ a livin’, 
’cept preachin’. Sailor, soldier, cobbler, 
farmer, tinker ” 

“ Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief ; 
doctor, lawyer, merchant, chief,” quoted Polly 
with a sudden rebound of spirits, due to her 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 143 

companion’s unusual talkativeness. And as 
if in echo to her own outburst there came a 
faint sigh from the bed. So faint, indeed, 
that the girl held her breath to listen, while 
Luther leaned forward smiling in satisfaction, 
yet holding up his hand for silence, which 
only the sick boy might break. 

Polly’s glances flew from Luther’s face to 
Roland’s and back again, in mute entreaty ; 
breathless, radiant, she was now perfectly 
certain that all would be well ; and when, 
after a brief interval and for the first time, 
Roland turned restlessly upon his pillow, 
seeking for himself a comfortable position 
and dropping into another but quite different 
slumber from that of the long hours past, the 
wise old “ Jack-of-all-trades ” leaned back in 
his chair and nodded his grizzled head in 
great content. 

Is he all right ? ” questioned Polly’s lips, 
yet without a sound, and again Luther 
nodded. Then out of the room crept the 
overcharged sister and away to her own 
chamber, there to throw herself on the bed 
and to sob herself to sleep in the reaction of 
her feelings, though she had meant only to 


144 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

have her cry out for she couldn’t keep in any 
longer.” 

There Inez found her. Inez the faithful, 
no longer a tease but the tenderest, most sym- 
pathetic of friends. It was she who had 
learned the good news — -just from one in- 
quiring glance at Luther as she paused on the 
sick room threshold and peeped in — then 
spread it through the household. 

“ O hala, hala ! Sweetheart, Polly-Mar- 
gareta ! The joy that has come ! The brother 
recovers, yes ! And so quick, so swift that he, 
also, shall of the merienda share. Si. En 
verdad. In truth. Yes. I know it, I feel 
it ” 

O Inez ! Don’t tell me that you ‘ feel it 
in your bones ’ ! That’s what Martha does, 
and the things she ^ feels ’ that way are never 
nice ! ” cried Polly, springing up, wonder- 
fully refreshed by her much needed sleep and 
so happy that she could not possibly keep 
still. Even when Juanita entered, bringing 
some new and daintily fashioned garments 
which Sehora Ysidro had had prepared for 
her young guest’s use, during Polly’s days of 
watching, she could scarcely pause in her 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 145 

excitement to examine them. Not until Inez 
finally caught and held her in a chair did she 
listen and comprehend what her friend de- 
manded of her. 

Wait. You shall the bath and the dress- 
ing first. Not once again to Roland’s side till 
you are — as you should be. See ? The pretty, 
pretty frock ? Of palest blue, to so well suit 
your fair skin and yellow hair. Blue like 
your eyes and, maybe, the brother’s, is it not ? 
Since, of the same northern color are his curls 
also. Or were. The pity ! To shave and 
cut locks so beautiful I But that Luther, the 
nurse, he would with his ugly razor, yes, 
though I made him keep them every one in a 
little Indian basket for you, the sister. It was 
upon me the fitting was made and I long 
to see myself in you. Juanita ! To your 
duty ! ” 

Protest was useless ; and beside, there was 
great attraction for the girl in the new clothes 
so thoughtfully provided and a desire to look 
her best when her precious invalid should so 
far recover as to recognize her. Touched by 
the generous kindness of these Californian 
strangers, tears came to Polly’s eyes again. 


146 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

but only tears of gratitude which hurt no- 
body ; and she exclaimed with fervor : 

“ That wonderful Doha Dolores ! Was there 
ever anybody else like her ! She thinks of 
everything, of everybody. If I live forever I 
can never repay her, never ! She truly is 
the most wonderful, splendid woman in the 
world ! 

Save one, madre mia ! What Doha Do- 
lores is Sehora Peralta was — and more ! 
returned the loyal daughter of an adored 
mother, with equal earnestness. But, ex- 
travagant ! There may be others just the 
same. Why not? It is a big, big world, 
Padre Gonzalez says, and we are in but one 
small corner of it. He knows. He is wise. 
He is of the travel many times. Even to 
Spain — Spain where my forefathers lived — 
has that good padre sailed and what he says 
I believe. So, if so big, in this world there 
must be more than two all-ready, noble 
women, and we should not be of the narrow 
mind — we. Not I, who belong to a great 
family. Not you who have been in the 
school taught. Ah ! I would so quickly that 
‘ old family,' of which Felicidad so prates. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 147 

give for one year at the ‘ school, where one 
learns to read the writing and write the read- 
ing, even like a Mission padre. Happy Polly- 
Margareta ! that you are so wise, you, your- 
self.” 

^^Wise? I?” cried Polly, in amazement, 
yet suddenly divining that the secret grief of 
this gay Inez might be her own want of book 
learning. 

For there were no schools save those at the 
Missions, which were for the Indian neo- 
phytes, and which no patrician Californian 
would attend. Such knowledge and accom- 
plishments as they themselves possessed 
mothers imparted to their daughters. Also, 
they trained their children to be notable house- 
wives, so that no matter how large the estab- 
lishment, its mistress might have an eye and 
hand ready for any part of it or any duty 
that arose. But books? Of what use were 
they? Even Don Santiago, said to be the 
very wealthiest ranchero in all that region, 
could neither read nor write, though he was 
an excellent man of business, so far as his 
dealings with the outside world required. 
Inez had already told Polly of the immense 


148 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

treasures of gold and silver which her host 
kept in an upper chamber of his unusually 
lofty house, and that this was stored in baskets 
in amounts which even he did not know. Ex- 
cept when the ships came in and the goods 
they brought were purchased there was little 
need for money, because almost everything 
required for the maintenance of the house- 
hold was raised at Santa Rosa. 

A few moments later, when Juanita had 
finished her little mistress’ toilet and they 
were ready to leave the room — departure hav- 
ing been somewhat delayed by Inez’ contin- 
ual and frankly expressed admiration of her 
friend’s altered appearance — Polly clasped her 
arms about the other’s neck and said : 

“ It is very little I know, darling Inez, even 
though I have been at school all my life. 
But what I do know, mayn’t I teach you? 
I’m sure we can get books somewhere, and 
you’re so bright that, even if my father comes 
for me very soon, you’ll be able to learn a lot 
of things. How to reckon accounts and read 
English, for of course, I couldn’t help you 

in the Spanish Wouldn’t you like that? 

Wouldn’t it be ‘ fun ’ or better? ” 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 149 

“Oh! Polly I Will you? Can you? And 
listen — listen you, heart’s dearest 1 If you 
love my dear comadre, my godmother Dona 
Dolores, as you say, why then the surest way 
to make her glad and prove your love is to 
teach Mateo with us. Even Jose, maybe 1 
Who can tell? That boy has some of the 
brains, is it not? And if Don Santiago is so 
rich and so ignorant of the account-keeping 
— why, the blessing that would be I Oh 1 I 
am so glad, so glad 1 ” 

“ But — but — I’m no schoolma’am 1 ” cried 
Polly, aghast at the expectations so unwit- 
tingly aroused. “ I’m only a beginner myself 
and I should be afraid ” 

Impulsive Inez drew back, chilled and dis- 
appointed. Utterly without self-consciousness 
herself, and always eager to share her own 
benefits with anybody who would, she could 
not comprehend the modest hesitation of the 
easterner. 

However, at sight of Inez’ changed expres- 
sion, hesitation vanished and Polly said : “ I’ll 
do it, if they wish, and the very best I can. 
Only what I don’t know that I can’t teach. 
Now, let’s hurry to my Roland I ” 


ISO POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Thus what might have been a first quarrel 
between the two impulsive girls was avoided, 
and the little gringo stood committed to a 
course which, she reflected with a smile, would 
have surprised Miss Brown, the Woodley 
school-teacher, as greatly as it did herself. 

When the girls presented themselves at the 
sick-room door, coming on tiptoe and mutely 
questioning if they might enter, Luther, at 
first, failed to recognize Polly. So different 
was her bright, rested face from the careworn 
one she had borne away, and so transformed 
her attire that his own tired eyes seemed to 
deceive him into thinking her some unknown 
mate of the merry Inez. Till seeing him look 
so cheerful, despite his physical weariness, she 
stole in and laying her cheek against his own 
and clasping her arms about his neck she 
begged him in a whisper : 

“Do go and take some rest yourself, you 
precious man ! I’m sure that Inez and 
I can take care of Roland. I’ve had such 
a beautiful sleep and I want you to have one, 
too.” 

“Why — Polly! You?” he whispered in 
return. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 15 1 

“ I, and none other. A case of fine feathers 
making fine birds, you see. And aren’t they 
fine ? ” she further asked, softly stepping back, 
spreading her fluffy skirts and curtseying in 
the most approved Californian manner. 

At which Inez laughed, then, frightened by 
the sound she made, vanished — to spread the 
good news that there was to be a real school 
at Santa Rosa for anybody who should choose 
to attend, and that the brilliant instructor 
would be — Polly, the gringo ! 

“ For behold, she knows it all, that wise 
maiden. Si. En verdad. Has she not her- 
self in the far away and larger schools been 
taught, she ? Ah 1 the great brains of her 
head. Ah ! she could out of it have reckoned, 
if she had not hated the cruelty, and would 
not look ; she could have reckoned how many 
cattle were in that great rodeo and of each 
herd how many to their owners. Si. Yes. 
En verdad. That she could, Polly-Margareta, 
the Wise ! ” 

Guay ! I believe it not, I ! ” said Vin- 
cente, strolling up. “ A girl, muchacha ! 
doncellita ! It is not of the nature, no.” 

“ It may not be of the nature, but it is of 


152 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

the truth ! retorted Inez, whirling about. 

And upon the merienda we begin it. Why 
wait ? Comes el Capitan, the father, and 
away goes my Polly Pancoast. The hurt one 
is improved. He has sighed. He has slept. 
Of his own will, not because of old Luther, 
the nurse. He will upon the merienda, also, 
go. And what Polly-Margareta cannot tell us 
the brother Roland he will impart. Because 
— he, also, is of that glorious sex — hombre, 
mankind ! 

With a mocking curtsey she left the lads to 
ponder her news and each in his way to re- 
joice in it. Jose of honest thankfulness, be- 
cause of late— alas ! only of late ! he had 
begun to covet learning. Even with a pos- 
sible, rather, a probable, conscription into the 
army facing him, he had felt that to under- 
stand what lay between the covers of books 
might be of benefit to himself and to his 
father, whom he adored. It chafed him to 
find that all of the gringos who came to 
California could read. Why, he had once 
found that short-spoken Luther Dowie with 
a strange volume in his hand, out of which he 
seemed to be getting no end of amusement. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 153 

And when Jose had asked the name of the 
book, the man had answered : 

Don Quixote. Your own kind.’’ 

‘‘ Don Quixote ” was certainly Spanish, and 
Jose had immediately spoken to Padre Gon- 
zalez about it, the very first time he met him 
thereafter, but the padre had suggested the 
Book of Prayers as the better reading, and 
Jose had let the matter lapse. Now he would 
learn, even of a girl, since needs must. 

Meanwhile, in the cool chamber where 
Roland had so peacefully enjoyed a health- 
giving sleep, Polly was leaning over him, 
watchful of each beloved feature and, in- 
cidentally, listening to the noises which drifted 
through the open windows. After a time she 
heard voices close at hand. They sounded 
familiar, and she listened. Suddenly she sat 
up straight. Francisco again, she was sure of 
it ! And now, forgetful of any suspicion 
against him she crept lightly to the window, 
intent upon giving him a nod of welcome, in 
case he should happen to look up and see her. 

He did see her, but as her sunny face ap- 
peared in the casement, a word escaped his 
lips which his one-time pupil heard and 


154 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

which changed her expression into one of 
terror. As before, Juana was with him, but 
the woman no longer stole away. On the 
contrary she gazed earnestly at the little 
gringo and held up her clasped hands, as if 
entreating help. 

Francisco stared, unmoved. With just such 
an expression had he beheld the threatening 
savages harassing the little Mary Ann on 
her perilous trip through the Straits. Then 
he stalked openly away, an ugly blot on the 
fair landscape, so Polly thought, though she 
instantly forgot him again, as the dearer sight 
for which she longed awaited her upon the 
bed. With another long drawn sigh, as one 
awakening out of a night^s slumber, Roland 
turned upon his pillows, healthfully stretched 
his limbs, and exclaimed : “ Hello ! ” 

Then as his sister flew toward him, adding 
quickly and in a natural tone : “ Why, Polly ! 
Am I late ? 

“ Oh ! you darling, darling, darling ! Late ? 
No, youTe not late, not anything but just per- 
fectly, wholly everything beautiful, precious, 
and delightful that can be I Oh ! I have you 
again I I didn't lose you ! I didn't come for 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 155 

nothing, after all ! And I feared Oh ! 

my Roland, my brother ! 

Alas I the unwise little sister I Her heart 
was so full of conflicting emotions that she 
utterly forgot all the caution Luther had tried 
to instil into her mind during the days just 
passed ; and could that faithful nurse have 
heard her he would have despaired of the re- 
sult. The doctor had said, and Luther knew, 
that the patient’s complete recovery depended 
upon his having perfect quiet when his con- 
sciousness returned. 

Roland closed his eyes again, his pallor 
deepened, and he became again so motionless, 
that Polly’s delight died in a remorseful fear. 
A fear which held her, also, motionless, and 
thus, it may be, gave the weak boy’s strength 
a chance to rally. For after a little time, he 
again opened his eyes and asked, though in a 
much weaker voice than before : 

“ Polly ? Are you Polly ? ” 

Yes, yes. Just Polly — who forgot. Who 
always did forget what she should remember. 
Don’t say I’ve made you worse, please, please, 
my darling ! ” 

Where are we ? What has happened ? ” 


156 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Then out came the whole story; from the 
moment of his departure from Woodley till 
the present one, though to her credit it was 
that there were no words wasted in the narra- 
tive, and that she spoke so slowly and dis- 
tinctly that everything was understood with- 
out questioning. 

Also, though she was extremely curious to 
hear all that had befallen her brother, she 
would not allow him to talk further then. 
The main fact of his appearance at the rodeo 
had been earlier explained by Don Miguel 
Mercado, the owner of Las Palmas, in whose 
company Roland had arrived at Santa Rosa. 
Captain Pancoast had placed his son with this 
gentleman and friend, immediately upon the 
landing of the Columbia at San Diego, and 
had added instructions that the lad should 
learn the business of cattle-farming in all its 
branches. He had given the boy a large sum 
of money and, with his own caponera of horses 
and a vaquero to attend them, had set off north- 
ward to visit the various ranchos where he 
transacted his affairs. Nothing further had 
been heard from him or would be, it was prob- 
able, until the time of collecting the season’s 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 157 

supply of hides and tallow, for which he was 
now negotiating. 

To have found Roland left behind, and now 
on the road to recovery and their old, close 
companionship, was joy enough for Polly ; 
but, oh 1 how their tongues would fly, com- 
paring notes of their separate voyages and 
upon this new, wonderful country. 

In a little while Luther returned, shook his 
head at Polly’s nursing, ordered her away, and 
proceeded to feed and watch the still weak lad 
himself. And it was while sadly wandering 
out of the court, to some quiet place beyond 
the buildings where she “ could think things 
over,” that the girl found herself followed by 
Juana. 

Vexed that her desired solitude should be 
disturbed, Polly turned about to retrace her 
own steps and, since she must have society, 
whether or no, to seek that more congenial 
than this sad-eyed Indian woman. 

“Why do you follow me so, Juana?” she 
demanded, rather sharply. 

But the other begged pardon so humbly for 
her intrusion, and yet so persistently remained, 
that Polly felt there was something deeper in 


158 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

the incident than she had at first supposed. 
Remembering again the dreadful word she 
had heard on Francisco’s lips, she suddenly 
caught Juana’s arm and asked : 

‘‘ Why did you look at me so imploringly, 
when you were under the window ? What is 
Francisco, the mischief-maker, doing here, at 
Santa Rosa ? And what is he to you ? ” 

‘‘ My brother. Son of my mother, but in 
his heart always a hater of better men. Hear 
me, Juana. Doha Dolores, my mistress, 
comadre of my own Juanita, is in danger. 
To me, though I beg of her, will she not lis- 
ten. To you Is it not but just now I 

have heard that you are wise as the padres 
who read in the books ? And of wisdom she, 
my beloved one, has much respect. Go to 
her. Tell her that what Juana has warned — 
that is true. At once she, and all must pre- 
pare. To-day, the laughter, the music, the 
feasting ; mahana — to-morrow, the awful — 
desolation. Go. Implore. As the sun shines, 
what I have said that I abide by.” 

Then drawing over her head the shawl that 
had been a gift of her mistress, the Indian 
woman slipped away, leaving Polly fright- 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 159 

ened, even appalled by her manner, yet merely 
guessing at what that manner meant. Mis- 
chief of some sort. That was surely true ; but 
not the horrible thing which flashed through 
her mind, only to be rejected as impossible. 

However, no harm could come of doing as 
Juana had asked, and she hoped that Senora 
Ysidro would be more explicit on the subject 
than her servant had been. 

So she sought her hostess and repeated what 
the Indian had said, adding : 

And I do wish, dear Dona Dolores, that 
you would tell me what this dreadful thing is 
she fears. She made me all creepy and goose- 
fleshy, and I guess — I guess I donT like In- 
dians, anyway. Mission-raised or heathen ! ’’ 
Dona Dolores' flne face had clouded, at 
hearing Juana's message, and now laying her 
hand gently upon Polly's head she seemed 
half-inclined to conflde her perplexity to the 
bright eyed pleader. Then she restrained the 
inclination, forcing herself to laugh lightly, 
and saying : 

Why seek for unknown trouble, Marga- 
reta, who are but a child? Juana is a timid 
woman. Believe me. Si. Yes, yes, en verdad." 


CHAPTER IX 


THE MERIENDA 

The merienda was but a great picnic in 
which almost all the families for a long dis- 
tance around united. The ground was the 
gently sloping side of the near-by mountain, 
where were enormous patches of wild straw- 
berries, and the social Californians made the 
gathering of this delicious fruit the occasion 
for a jolly annual ‘‘ camping-out.^^ 

Streams of pure water flowed down the 
slopes, trees were plentiful, and storms un- 
known ; so that many households remained 
in camp for the entire summer, nature^s vaca- 
tion time in that region as it is elsewhere. 
Temporary dwellings of all sorts were erected, 
from the basket- woven, tule-thatched huts of 
the Indian tribes to the canvas tents brought 
by shipboard from the other ocean'’ ; and 
now that the rodeo was over the assembled 
guests of Santa Rosa set forth, at once, for 
their holiday. 

Wagons, such as had brought Polly to the 

i6o 


POLLY, THE GRINGO i6i 


rancho, were loaded with mattresses, bedding, 
and all sorts of cooking utensils ; for this lux- 
urious people disdained roughing it even 
on a picnic. Ladies carried their wardrobes, 
or sufficient portions of them, to render them- 
selves always able to appear freshly gowned 
and attractive, and were attended by servants 
in plenty to fulfil all their requirements. 

But, as Roland still remained weak and life- 
less, the doctor decided that he should delay 
joining the picnickers for a few days longer, 
and Polly would not leave him. Dona Do- 
lores could not be induced to forsake her home, 
save that she promised to ride out to the camp 
as often as she could, and this would mean but 
a few hours’ absence from Santa Rosa at any 
one time. For reasons she did not explain to 
her friends she felt this year the need of some 
clear headed person always at hand, and 
Polly was delighted to find that she was her- 
self to be put in charge during these occasional 
absences. 

“ Oh ! I am so thankful you will trust me, 
dear Mrs. Ysidro. It is only a little beginning 
of things to do for you, but I hope that many, 
many more will follow. You do not know 


i 62 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

how grateful I am to you for your goodness to 
Roland and me. Only for you he must have 
died, and ” 

None die but as the dear God wills, nina 
mia. We must remember that — no matter 
what comes to us. Things do not ‘ happen ’ 
in this world, though we say so in our un- 
thinking fashion. For myself, I think that 
silly Juana has disturbed me too much 
with her talk. She is never at peace when 
that brother, Francisco, comes to Santa Rosa. 
Yet they were raised by the same good 
padre, though so unlike — unlike as those two 
plants, yonder, en verdad. The white calla, 
drinking all the water one can give it, to re- 
turn us for our care its perfect blossoms — that 
is my faithful Juana ; but the cactus beside 
it, drinks nothing and changes not. That is 
Francisco. As for Maro, her husband, he is — 
may I be forgiven my uncharity ! he is all 
bad Indian.” 

‘‘Does he live at Santa Rosa, Doha Do- 
lores?” asked Polly, wondering which of the 
many Indians dwelling there he might be. 

“ No. Gracias a Dios ! No. Such as he 
‘live^ nowhere. They but roam the good 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 163 

earth, seeking what they may devour, like 
their brothers — the coyotes. At the creation 
there were many creatures put upon the land, 
and most of them were noble or had the no- 
bility hidden in them. Si. In truth, two 
had neither goodness nor even decency, but 
were permitted of our Maker as afflictions 
upon us. His other children. Why ? I know 
not. For our chastening, as I said. Who 
can tell ? 

Polly had never heard her hostess speak 
with such fervor of dislike toward anybody, 
and she knew there must be some good cause 
for it. Hoping for an explanation she asked. 
Who are the ‘ two ’ ? 

The coyote and the bad Indian. Have I 
not the cruel rope-wounds seen upon my Jua- 
na’s shoulders? Was not one of her little 
children killed before its mother’s eyes be- 
cause it chanced, like any teething baby, to 
cry aloud when its unnatural father would 
sleep ? Ah ! I shudder at the name of Maro, 
the Hawk. But ’tis many months since he 
has set his wicked, stealthy foot on this dear 
rancho, and God forbid that it should ever 
travel this way again. Enough. But alas I 


1 64 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

that I who would be wise should have talked 
thus unwisely. Be not afraid, querida, only 
— be on guard. When the shadow of Maro, 
the Hawk, flits across our threshold — speed 
you for the nearest friend you can. But 
come ! It is time for sleep, en verdad ; and 
’tis only because so many dear ones have this 
day left us that Santa Rosa seems so deserted 
and forlorn. Like the house of burial. But 
that Inez ! The gay one ! It is her absence 
makes the court so still. Wait. I will fetch 
my guitar, I, myself And I will make soft 
music for the sick brother, that shall charm 
him into the sleep which cures. At once ; 
now. Yes.” 

Polly had never heard her hostess play, but 
was not surprised to learn that she could do 
so. Indeed, she considered Dona Dolores to 
be as near perfection as any mortal could be, 
and the frequent wish of her heart was that 
dear Aunt Mercy could see and know this 
new friend into whose care her “ troublesome 
but precious child ” had now come. 

The music which followed had the effect 
Senora Ysidro desired ; it took the sharpness 
from the recent talk while yet leaving it un- 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 165 

forgotten. She wished to put Polly upon 
her guard against possible danger, yet 
shrank from stating openly the fear which 
haunted Juana, and, indeed. Dona Dolores 
herself. 

Roland fell asleep and Polly dreamed 
beautiful, ambitious dreams, listening to the 
gentle tinkling of the guitar and the sweet 
Spanish Lullabys ’’ the player chanted ; so 
that seeing these young things so peaceful and 
content, Doha Dolores went early to her own 
bed, determining to ride to camp on the mor- 
row and forget all forebodings of evil. 

And when the day rose she did as she had 
planned, taking a vaquero for escort. This 
left Polly and Roland practically alone, with 
a few servants, mostly women. Since the 
rodeo was over most of the employees of the 
rancho took a brief vacation ; some in the 
near-by town, some hunting in the mountains, 
and some following their employer to the 
camp. 

Luther was down with the rheumatiz 
and his lugubrious expression reminded the 
easterners of their own Jonathan when af- 
flicted with a similar complaint ’’ ; though 


i66 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Luther bore his suffering silently, which the 
other never did. 

Juana and another Indian woman, with a 
boy or two, were in charge of the kitchen, 
Tomas having gone to the merienda to fur- 
ther astonish his master's friends by his won- 
derful cookery ; and Juanita remained behind 
only so long as her new mistress did ; then 
she, too, would away to the hills. 

A few vaqueros were in their usual quarters, 
to attend to the crops in the fields and such 
horses as were left in the home corrals, though 
most of the animals had been ridden to the 
camp or turned out to pasture where they 
would. There was still at hand Nineto, the 
pretty piebald pony ; and Jose’s own pet black, 
Nito, which — as a special compliment — he had 
offered for Poland’s use, so soon as he was 
again able to ride. 

It was a beautiful morning when Dona 
Dolores rode away to the merienda, for her 
first brief outing of a day with her friends, 
and she was in the happiest of spirits, as were 
the brother and sister whom she parted from 
in the shady, flower-embowered court. 

“ Ah, my dears,” she cried, as eagerly as a 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 167 

girl, can there be any evil in a world so 
lovely as this? No. Indeed, I cannot be- 
lieve it. Truly, if there were any treachery 
in any human heart, for very shame to be so 
black a thing on this sunshiny day it would 
creep out and die. Give thanks, my children, 
that the good God has spared you to each 
other and be happy together. All that is in 
the house is at your will, and I shall be back 
in time for the evening meal. If not — then 
when the same dear Dios wills. Adios ! 
Adios ! 

Is she not the most beautiful, gracious 
woman who ever lived ? cried Polly, enthusi- 
astically, and with a moisture in her eyes from 
her excess of feeling. 

To her surprise, her brother did not re- 
spond with the same depth of sentiment, 
though he answered : 

Yes, she’s handsome and — and good, I 
guess. But say, Polly ” 

Say what, dear ? ” 

Hmm. Is there anybody around, do you 
think ? I’ve never had a chance to say a 
dozen words to you alone, before. Either 
that plaguey Luther ” 


i68 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Roland Pancoast ! Such a tone — when 
that man saved your life ! '' interrupted the 
girl, reproachfully. 

“ Oh ! I guess I wasn^t in such great dan- 
ger. You always were a fusser, you know ; 
and as for the doctor and Dowie — iPs to their 
credit to make a big ^ case ^ out of nothing, 
and then claim they worked a wonderful 
cure.^^ 

At this strange speech and at sight of the 
lad’s perturbed countenance, Polly was so 
astonished that she kept silence, scarcely be- 
lieving her own eyes and ears. Then she 
exclaimed : 

“ Roland Pancoast, what is the matter with 
you ? Do you feel worse ? ” 

The lad made an impatient gesture, opened 
his lips — thought better of the words he would 
have spoken — and, finally demanded : 

Polly, have you any money ? ” 

This was practical and natural. The pair 
had always received the same small “ allow- 
ance,” and Roland had enjoyed the spending 
of both portions. The question relieved the 
anxious sister of her fear that her brother’s 
brain might be affected. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 169 

No, dear. Not a cent. I wish I had. 
Why ? Do you need money ? 

“ Do I need it ? Polly, I must have it. 
I — I — am in — debt ! 

“ In — debt ! How horrible ! How can you 
be ? Didn’t father give you any money when 
he went away ? ” 

Roland flushed and turned over on the 
cushions she had spread beneath a palm-tree 
for his use. He did not wish her to see his 
face, at that moment, and murmured some- 
thing about the sunlight in his eyes, but he 
did not answer, otherwise. 

Polly adored Roland and had done her 
utmost to spoil him, but that did not prevent 
her being angry with him on occasion, and 
she reckoned this as a warrantable one. Her 
retort was prompt and contemptuous. 

It isn’t the sunshine that hurts you — it’s 
my eyes. You’re afraid to look into them. 
You’ve been doing something foolish, Roland 
Pancoast, and that’s what makes you act so 
queer. Don’t try to work your self-reproach 
off by saying ill-natured things of your good 
doctor or your faithful old Luther-nurse. 
Debt I I never heard of a Pancoast owing any- 


1 70 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

body anything before — except — except 

Why ! I suppose I’m in debt myself ! And 
I’d forgotten the dreadful thing until this 
very moment. Why, the very clothes I have 
on are not paid for and ” 

The effect upon Roland of this was to 
make him whirl over and spring up with 
an energy he had not shown before since his 
accident. 

“ You don’t say so ! Well — then you cer- 
tainly can’t blame me. It must be in the air 
of this California to make sensible people act 
extravagantly. Yes, sir ! That’s it ! It’s the 
air — nothing else. That’s why the Califor- 
nians all bow and scrape to each other, calling 
one another ^ heart’s dearest,’ when they are 
really enemies, and signing a letter with ‘ I 
kiss your feet,’ when they’d be the last people 
on earth to do such a thing. Oh I I — I 
wish I’d never come ! I’d give forty years of 
this horrid California for one of dear New 
England ! ” 

Look here, Roland,” said Polly, there’s 
something beneath all this talk that’s got to 
come out. First, I’ll explain just what my 
debt is and how it happened — though that, of 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 17 1 

course, was simply because I ran away. Cap- 
tain Marshall gave me that passage on the 
Mary Ann and would simply never listen 
when I spoke of father’s repaying him when 
they met. Then he made me feel that they 
were such friends that the mention of pay- 
ment for such a matter as that would be an 
insult. Of course, I tried to * work my way ’ 
by doing whatever I could for both the Cap- 
tain and his wife, but I couldn’t do much. 
They didn’t need me, that is, not until she 
was hurt there in the Straits. After that I 
could nurse her and wait on her while she 
was helpless, and I did it. I was glad to do 
it ; but, when we got here and I hadn’t the 
right sort of clothes, that dear Captain made 
me take money and give it to Doha Dolores, 
and she has spent it for me. I consider that 
a debt, though Captain Marshall insisted that 
I’d earned it, and more, taking care of his 
wife. I shall ask father to pay him that back, 
anyway, even if he doesn’t pay for the trip. 
Now, you confess. And, darling, please for- 
give me for being so sharp a minute ago. It’s 
a case of a beam in my own eyes and a mote 
in yours, I guess. Oh ! how little anybody 


172 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

does eveir understand herself! Do you for- 
give me? 

'Course. Don’t mention it,” said Roland, 
magnanimously ; again stretching his long 
body on the cushions she heaped for him. 
“ We’re both in the same fix, you see, and it’s 
a shame. Polly, our father. Captain Hiram 
Pancoast, is a very rich man ! He had no 
right to treat me as he did. Senor Miguel 
Mercado is an old bachelor and a great many 
men, mostly young ones like me ” 

“ Roland I You’re no ^man ’ I You’re only 
a boy, rather overgrown.” 

“ ^ Gracias 1 ’ In this country men are men 
at my age. Well, let that pass. I — I’ve 
changed. I’ve developed since I left Wood- 
ley ” 

Indeed 1 I should think you had 1 I 
wish Aunt Mercy could hear you orate I And 
please don’t talk anything but ^ Yankee ’ to me. 
‘ Gracias ’ — nonsense I Plain ^ thank you ’ is 
best for us. But, dear, I don’t want to be cross 
again and surely you know, all our lives it 
has been so, that I sympathize with you in 
everything. Tell me about your debts and, 
maybe, I can think a way out.” 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 173 

“ Oh ! Polly, if you could ! You always 
had the better head of the two. And I do 
care a lot for you — even if I have changed. I 
don’t suppose people, even the closest friends 
— as we were ” 

As we are, Roland 1 Don’t say ^ were ’ 
— as if all our splendid happy times were 
past. As we are. Roly, as we are ! ” 

Touched by the honest distress in her eyes, 
Roland sat up and drew her down upon the 
cushions beside him. Then she cuddled 
against him, just as she used to when they had 
climbed upon a haymow in the old barn at 
Rock Acre — to dream the dreams of what 
might be in their future. Neither had ever 
dreamed of just such a future as this, but it 
had come, was now their present — as the 
wiser Polly reflected — and they ought to 
make the most of it. 

Now, Roly,” she said. Out with the 
trouble and let’s ‘ lay the ghost.’ ” 

“ I’m afraid it’s too real to be a ghost, 
Polly, dear. Though our father is rich he 
didn’t leave me as much money as — as I 
wish. I was going to say again, ^ as he should 
have done,’ but I suppose he thought he was 


" 174 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

treating me generously. He only didn’t re- 
member the difference between New England 
' raising ’ and that of this country. I had to 
dress like the other men here. Polly, I sim- 
ply had to ! There was no other way unless 
I let myself be the laughing stock of the 
whole crowd. And I couldn’t do that, you 
know.” 

Maybe you couldn’t, Roly. But I think 
if those silly boys had jeered at me it would 
have only made me prouder and more bent 
upon living my own way.” 

“ Possibly. You’ve never been tempted, as 
I was, and I expect you would have asked the 
cost of things first. I didn’t. Father was so 
kind to me all the time of our voyage, and 
when he left me seemed so proud and ambi- 
tious for me. I didn’t know how much I 
really loved him till that last evening when 
he bade me good-bye, and said I was to ‘ make 
a man of myself’ and forget the molly-cod- 
dling I’d always had. My cough was cured 
by the sea air and there was no reason why I 
shouldn’t be a very successful ranchero. If I 
learned the business, he would buy a rancho 
and stock it for me. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 175 

“ I tell you, Polly, he made me feel about 
ten inches taller and a deal more manly than 
I ever had before. And yet — the very next 
day I — was an ass ! 

Polly's soft hand stole to her brother’s lips 
and rested there in warning. Then she said : 

^H’ve heard Aunt Mercy say that the first 
step to wisdom was to recognize one’s own 
folly. Roland, do you know that, viewed 
from this distance, I begin to see that our 
plain spoken Aunt Mercy was a smart woman. 
Next? The debt?” 

“ I went to a Mexican store in the town and 
one of the other young men ” 

“ Boys ! ” interrupted Polly. 

“ Well, then, boys — selected a saddle for 
me, and a sombrero and — all the rest of the 
things. Polly, do you know how much my 
sombrero cost? My hat, you know ? ” 

No, I don’t know, but I think it suits 
you about as well as it would — let me see. 
Deacon Lysander Griffin ! Sombreros belong 
to dark people, not fadey-out white-haired 
ones. Honest, though ! when I saw you with 
it on, and how neatly Jose had had the 
vaquero mend it for you I didn’t wonder 


176 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

your head was a little top-lofty. You are the 
very handsomest, dearest boy in the world. 
Except — when you aren’t either a plain boy 
nor neither a real man. When you’re just 
Roly Pancoast, you’re as nice as you — need 
be. Go on about the sombrero that the horses 
trampled so.” 

It was small wonder that Roland was some- 
what conceited, since this sister, who was so 
clever to detect humbugs, alternately flattered 
and reproved him in such fashion. But, at 
heart, he was afraid of the effect his confidence 
would have upon her, for she, as well as he, had 
been reared to think a dollar meant one hun- 
dred cents, and a full one hundred cents’ worth 
of value must be received for its expenditure. 
As for hats, at Woodley he had worn none 
costing more than a few dimes ; but this som- 
brero — 

Polly, that hat you pretend to despise cost 
one hundred dollars, and I got it below price ! 
Just through the friendliness of one of the 
young sefiors.” 

Polly sprang up and away from him as if 
he had struck her, so shocked and amazed was 
she. When she could speak, she demanded : 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 177 

'' Say it again ! I — I don't think I heard 
you right." 

I paid over one hundred dollars for my 
sombrero. I paid one hundred and fifty for 
my saddle. I — I dare not tell you the rest. 
Our father left me five hundred dollars and 
supposed, indeed said, it would last me for a 
whole year or, at least, until he came again. 
Out of it I was to buy my horses — he has a 
whole dozen or more of his own, with a va- 
quero to look after them while he trades along 
the coast — yet he expected me " 

Wait, Roland. Don't speak one word 
against our father. He is right. He is always 
right. Whether he were or not — that is noth- 
ing to us. We are not to question what he 
does, but to obey him. I haven't obeyed him 
and I — I lie awake many an hour regretting 
it. I will try by all my future to prove my 
repentance to him, and now — though I have 
found you, whom I didn't think I could live 
without, it doesn't make up. Roland, 1 believe 
nothing — nothing ever makes up for wrong- 
doing. The only thing we can, either of us 
do now, is to try to get back to the simple life 
of duty and honest dealing that we learned at 


178 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Rock Acre. Now, don’t let’s beat about the 
bush, but face^ exactly the amount you — we 
both owe. How much is it ? ” 

“ Five hundred dollars, for my part.” 

‘‘ Oh ! ” gasped Polly, turning fairly faint at 
the enormity of the sum. You mean — you 
really mean — that you have spent one thousand 
dollars since you have been in California? ” 
Roland, already terribly worried over his 
affairs, now seemed to see them in even a 
clearer and more painful light. He dropped 
his face in his hands and his hands upon his 
knees. 

Polly said no more. Motionless, despair- 
ing, feeling herself, and Roland — dearer than 
herself, utterly and eternally disgraced, she sat 
upright on the cushions, gazingsteadily through 
the gateway of the court, out upon the wide, 
sunlit plain, with eyes that, for a time, saw 
nothing but a mental picture of her offended 
father’s face and the horrified one of gentle 
Aunt Mercy. How ill had her beloved chil- 
dren ” rewarded their upbringing ! 

Then, suddenly, she was upon her feet, her 
face pallid with terror, her eyes distended, her 
hand pointing through the gateway. 



“LOOK ROLAND! OH, LOOK,” SHE CRIED 




POLLY, THE GRINGO 179 

Look, Roland ! Oh, look,’’ she cried. 

As he leaped to a place beside her and saw 
what held her so rigid, his own heart sank 
and a terrible faintness assailed him. 

There were Indians approaching, a great 
company of them, it seemed, all mounted yet 
moving stealthily, as if on evil bent. And 
suddenly, as if she heard it but newly spoken 
at her very side, there echoed in Polly’s 
memory the fateful word which had dropped 
from Francisco’s lips, the terrible thing that 
was facing them at that instant, of which 
Juana had warned in vain — a Massacre ” ! 

That was what it meant, the word she had 
heard in the Indian’s own tongue, with all its 
attendant horrors. For an instant, Polly 
Pancoast felt as if she were already dead. 


CHAPTER X 


FKOM PERIL TO SANCTUARY 

Only for an instant. Then there flashed 
before her inner sight a vision of her own de- 
serted home upon a distant, peaceful hillside, 
with Aunt Mercy^s gentle face framed in its 
doorway. It was not to die that she had run 
away from all that ; not to fill Aunt Mercy’s 
motherly eyes with a keener anguish still ! 
Die ? She was yet alive, and Roland 

Clutching his arm she whispered : The 

horses ! We must ride to save ourselves, — 
and the others ! ” 

Roland had spoken truth when he said that 
he had “ changed,” had “ developed,” since 
he sailed away from Portland harbor. Polly 
had jeered at the sort of change ” which he 
had boasted, but he was now to prove her 
judgment wrong. Petted and shielded at 
home on account of his supposed delicacy, he 
had accepted the cossetting without question, 
and the more readily because he so disliked 
i8o 


POLLY, THE GRINGO i8i 


cold and the rigors of a New England climate. 
Here, in the warmth and sunshine, his whole 
nature expanded and ambitions for other 
things than versifying and dreaming awoke 
within him. For the first time thrown with 
lads who were of his own age, yet esteemed 
themselves as men, he was roused to emula- 
tion of them. Unfortunately, as he had con- 
fessed to Polly, his first ambition had been to 
be like them in the matter of clothes ; but 
this was a natural mistake for an strictly 
raised youth when given the command of 
money. The five hundred dollars his father 
had left him had then appeared an inex- 
haustible sum, and it had come to him so 
easily that he did not think, until too late, 
how difficult might be the obtaining of a 
second similar amount. It is the easiest 
thing in the world to learn extravagance, as 
many another beside poor Roland has found 
out ; but now all these troubles and worries — 
concerning what had suddenly shrunk into 
the smaller things of life — were forgotten. 

It was a new Roland who conquered the 
faintness which, during a moment, had turned 
him giddy and laid a reassuring hand on the 


1 82 POLLY, THE GRINGO 


quivering one of his sister, and even at that 
supreme instant she looked at him in sur- 
prise. 

“ Don’t you be afraid, Polly dear ! Nothing 
shall hurt you while I’m alive. This way.” 

She had believed that he had hitherto enjoyed 
his new surroundings without much observa- 
tion of them and, indeed, it had been an old 
trial that he dreamed his way ” through life 
without seeing any of its details. Now she 
found that he had made a keener use of his 
eyes than she had, for he pointed out a short- 
cut to the close-walled corrals, one of which 
she had not known, and as instantly led her 
along it. 

This was across the court and screened from 
the sight of the Indians, and they gained the 
paddocks unobserved. Then said Roland, in 
a whisper : 

Find Luther. In the end room of the 
'quarters.’ Creep along the wall. He’ll 
know what’s to be done for the people here. 
I’ll have the horses saddled by that time and 
we can get away by that little gate behind. 
The buildings will screen us for a minute or 
so and then — we must keep our start. It’ll be 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 183 

a ride for other lives beside our own — but we’ll 
win ! ” 

The usually deliberate Roland had never 
spoken with such rapidity nor authority, and 
he had not lost an instant, nor wasted one 
movement in getting the spirited horses out 
of their corral without noise and their heavy 
saddles upon their backs. Even while she 
sped on her way to Luther, lying on the bed 
in his own room, the sister wondered how her 
brother had become such an adept or knew so 
certainly where to find things. She did not 
then know how another of the boy’s new 
aspirations had been to ride as the Califor- 
nians rode — as if born in the saddle : nor how 
faithfully he had practiced during his stay at 
Las Palmas. At the rodeo accident his own 
horse had been so injured that it was promptly 
shot, and he was thankful beyond expression 
that Jose’s kindness had left him one in its 
stead so swift as the beautiful Nito. Upon 
the creature’s fieetness depended many lives 
that day. 

Passing the kitchen door Polly reined up 
for the briefest instant, beckoned to Juana, 
pointed to the eastward, and rode on again — 


1 84 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

leaving all behind to what fate might be. As 
for her, she now had but one thought — Doha 
Dolores and her sons ! Even Inez . ceased to 
be of greatest importance, remembering the 
beautiful and gracious woman whose home 
was threatened and whose life in peril. 

How — quiet — they — step ! ” Polly man- 
aged to say to Roland, under her breath, 
noticing the softened footfalls of the sagacious 
animals they had now safely ridden beyond 
the limits of the great court. 

They — know ! ’’ returned Roland, also 
whispering. Then, adding as quietly : Now 

— for it ! Straight southeast to that break in 
the hills. The Indians ’ll see us in a minute 
— but don’t you see them ! Don’t look back 
— not once ! Ride — ride — ride ! ” 

Polly cast one terrified glance at her idol’s 
face, saw it set and stern till it seemed the 
face of a stranger, or that portrait of their 
great ancestor who died at Bunker Hill, then 
fixed her eyes on the foothills where, all un- 
conscious of peril, idled and laughed the new 
friends whom she had learned already so to 
love. 

Nineto proved the swifter horse of the two. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 185 

or, it may be, the more tractable under a 
stranger’s hand. His little hoofs seemed to 
pick up and throw off the distance with in- 
creasing, rather than lessening, speed ; in- 
tuitively selecting the grassiest route as if he 
understood that silence was even better than 
haste. But they had long since passed out of 
the hearing, if not of the sight of the Indians, 
who, apparently, had not pursued them, and 
Polly’s courage deepened, seeing her goal 
draw nearer. Then, forgetting Roland’s com- 
mand that she should not once look back ” 
she glanced around, meaning to nod congrat- 
ulations on their success thus far, and — he 
was nowhere in sight ! 

With a cry of alarm, she wheeled Nineto 
around and frantically scanned the landscape. 
Nobody was visible in any direction, not even 
an Indian. It was as if the mesa had opened 
and engulfed her brother, whom she was sure 
she had heard directly behind her only a 
moment before. 

Then, in despair, she reflected. Had she 
heard him ? Would it have been possible to 
do so, unless he were close at her side, on that 
soft sward over which she rode? Was it not 


1 86 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

the dainty pounding of Nineto's small hoofs 
which she had fancied the heavier ones of 
Nito ? Well, wherever he was, she must find 
him ! and resolving this, and now unconscious 
of any danger to herself, she began to retrace 
her way. Slowly, at first, peering intently 
everywhere over the sunlit plain ; then swiftly 
— as she dwelt upon the peril he was in. 

But, all at once, something bade her stop. 
Roland was hers, her very own. She had al- 
ready followed him over many waters, and 
should anything again separate them, now 
that she had found him ? 

Yes, something might — something should. 
Something deep down in her own heart, be- 
neath its loving and its suffering, higher than 
its highest, profounder than its utmost depths. 
In that distant camp amid the hills were 
many hearts to break — hers was but one. 

There were mothers, sons and brothers 

Oh! could any be so dear as Roland? Juana’s 
warnings, so persistently uttered, yet so dis- 
believed in by her mistress and master — espe- 
cially disregarded by him — had foretold a 
general uprising of her race. Polly had but 
vaguely comprehended this rumored trouble. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 187 

nor had Dona Dolores felt justified in burden- 
ing her young guest with anxieties at which 
her own husband laughed ; but now the girl 
realized the peril which threatened all those 
gay people yonder, so helpless and unprotected. 

‘‘ It isn’t Santa Rosa alone that must suffer. 
It’s everybody — if they aren’t told in time,” 
she thought. 

Then duty won. Duty which, at that dark 
moment when she so longed to follow her 
brother, she hated with all her vehement 
might — yet must obey. And now her own 
fair face took on something of that resem- 
blance to their brave ancestor, which she had 
seen on Roland’s a little while before, and 
Nirieto was sharply wheeled around again — 
to face the foothills — away from Roland and 
his fate, no matter what it might be. 

Things were at their loveliest and liveliest 
at that memorable merienda, everybody doing 
the utmost to make Senora Ysidro’s brief stay 
a delightful one and to banish from her brow 
that faint cloud of anxiety which rested there. 

It was this anxiety which made her so often 
look away toward the spot where lay her be- 
loved home, and thus be the first to see a far- 


1 88 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

spent, piebald pony totter up the slope. As 
she ran to meet him, a half-fainting girl 
slipped from the saddle, made a last step for- 
ward, and extending her imploring hands, 
cried hoarsely : 

“ The Indians ! Roland — Santa Rosa 

Quick ! quick ! ” 

Though her heart sank like lead, Doha Do- 
lores put aside her own fear and soothed the 
tortured Polly, while Inez — white with sudden 
terror — rushed to the near-by spring and 
brought water for the needed draught, though 
her hands shook so that she spilled more than 
she saved. Alas ! She, poor child, knew what 
an Indian’s arrow meant ! and might not that 
which had bereft her of one parent claim the 
other, also? 

Never was merienda “ broken ” so swiftly ; 
and Polly was mistaken in believing the 
merry-makers to be unprotected. All the 
men had firearms, of some sort, carried from 
habit or for the hunting to be enjoyed upon 
the mountains as a variety to the berry gath- 
ering. With Don Santiago in command 
forces were promptly disposed. 

Some of the gentlemen with their vaqueros 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 189 

and other servants were to escort the ladies 
and children to the Presidio, and place them 
under the small garrison of soldiers there es- 
tablished. Or if, by some mischance unable 
to reach this point, to shelter them at the 
Mission on the way. Don Santiago and the 
rest would hurry to Santa Rosa, trusting to be 
in time to prevent much mischief, and confi- 
dently assuring everybody that : 

A half-dozen white men can conquer a 
hundred redskins — dastards that they are.^^ 
Also, to Polly, he said, laying his hand caress- 
ingly upon her head : “ Tis the little gringo 

has done the brave deed this hour ! Bless the 
day she came to California ! ” 

Then, leaving her flushed and grateful, as 
well as comforted by his own confidence, he 
rode away at the head of a goodly company, 
nor did he know that his beloved Dolores, at- 
tended only by the reluctant Tomas, followed 
him at a distance to their home. 

A few servants remained to collect the tents 
and belongings of the picnickers, find and 
harness the wandering oxen, and drive the 
clumsy wagons toward the town, hoping to 
reach a spot of safety unmolested. 


190 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Senora Peralta was carefully placed in one 
of these wagons, made comfortable as it might 
be with mattresses and cushions ; and with her 
rode Inez and Polly, much against the latter’s 
will. Even at the last she protested earnestly 
that she must go back to Santa Rosa and her 
brother, if he were there, or to follow him 
wherever he might be. 

But Inez so pleaded for her company and 
was so terrified, not only on her own but her 
mother’s account, that Polly again put self 
aside and consented to do as she was asked. 
Dona Dolores had been appealed to earlier but 
had decidedly opposed the little gringo’s re- 
turn to the rancho, saying : 

“ If all is well there, you can be of no use, 
while to little Inez who loves you, you may 
be of comfort the unspeakable, is it not ? 
When it is a question of H ’ or ^ another ’ to 
be pleased, choose ^ another.’ It shall be well 
with Roland, brave lad. En verdad. He 
will be found — doubtless at the post of duty. 
It was the thought of the undefended women 
and sick Luther made him leave you — I know 
that. It is as if I heard him so declare. I, 
with my own ears. Si. Be comforted, nina 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 191 

mia. We will soon meet and in happiness 
again. While, besides, at the Mission is the 
good padre, so wise, so gentle, and so fearless. 
You will be safe there. It is sanctuary. And 
the duty now — is to the orphaned Inez and 
the frail, trembling mother. Adios ! 

There was comfort unspeakable ” to the 
sister herself in this suggestion concerning 
Roland. She had believed that some acci- 
dent had befallen him, that he had fallen 
into some hidden gully on that wide mesa and 
so been lost to sight ; that he was suffering 
somewhere on that trail from the rancho ; and 
that if she might but retrace it she would yet 
be in time. But the longer she pondered Dona 
Dolores’ words the truer they seemed, and 
with an outburst of pride, she caught Inez’ 
hands, exclaiming : 

“ Oh ! Inez ! My Roland is the bravest boy 
in this whole world ! I see — I understand 
everything ! Why he bade me ^ not look back 
— not once.’ I thought it was because he 
would not have me see the Indians and lose 
my courage at the sight. But it wasn’t, it 
wasn’t ! That dear, splendid hero — hero, 
Inez ! — knew that it needed but one to carry 


192 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

the news to the hills and that I could do it as 
well as he. But if he stayed at Santa Rosa he 
might help to save it and its people. That's 
why. Oh ! how could 1 have been so blind 
and faithless before ? That's why he looked 
so like our great-grandfather in the picture. 
Oh ! Inez ! To be the sister of a hero ! Can- 
not I bear anything, anything, now, knowing 
that? Can any fate be grander ? " 

“ Well, yes, I think so. En verdad. Si. 
It is fine. It is of the nobleness most noble. 
But for me, I, myself, I think that to be a 
heroine one's self — that is better than just 
being sister to a hero. It was you, after all, 
Polly-Margareta, who was the bravest this 
day. But for you — I might have lost my 
precious madre, also ! " 

“ Nonsense, Inez ! " cried Polly, sharply, 
disdaining credit which she felt was due 
wholly to her beloved brother, although she 
would have enjoyed this approbation had it not 
been at his expense. If I hadn't been there 
to do the easier thing and just ride to the 
hills, he would have come himself. No harm 
would have happened to you or your mother, 
in any case." 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 193 

Was it such a small thing, then ? Were 
you not of the breath exhausted when you 
arrived ? Was not the pretty Nineto almost 
dead with the urging, and you with the 
grieved excitement and the self-sacrifice ? 
For do I not know, as if I had heard the two 
voices speaking within you, in your heart, 
how one bade you go back to the lad you 
loved, and one to the strangers of another 
country ? Ah ! Polly, he may be the hero, en 
veritas, but you are the — heroine ! Ah ! 
heroina mia ! But the love I have for 
you ! ” 

The wagon made its way unmolested, and 
it was like entering another world when they 
passed into the Mission grounds and were 
welcomed by Padre Gonzalez as if they were 
expected guests. 

Then after Sefiora Peralta had briefiy told 
her story and asked for refuge the good priest’s 
manner grew even more cordial, though there 
was an anxiety in his fine eyes which even his 
courtesy could not hide. 

Summoning an Indian woman, a neophyte 
of the Mission, who was a superintendent of 
all the other women there resident, he directed 


194 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

her to convey their guests across the way to 
the long building behind that mighty hedge 
of cacti, which Polly had observed upon her 
arrival at the town. Within the enclosure, 
bounded on all four sides by this same im- 
penetrable thicket of prickly pear, the refugees 
found ample quarters and felt that it would 
be an adventurous savage, indeed, who would 
try to pierce that spine-bristling stockade. 
They were assigned to one big chamber, 
though beds for each one’s separate use were 
soon brought in. To the beds were added the 
other simple furnishings required, and another 
neophyte served them with beans and pieces 
of beef broiled on a spit. For the senora 
there was tea, and as soon as they had re- 
freshed themselves with food all sought and 
found the further refreshment of sleep. 

Oh ! It seems as if all I saw this morn- 
ing was a dream ! ” cried Polly, as she lay 
down. I don’t worry a bit now. It is so 
quiet and peaceful here.” 

Yes. Under the care of God’s own one 
may safely rest,” answered Senora Peralta, 
from her couch beside the window. Sleep 
now, my children both ; for I feel that to me 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 195 

has this day been given another daughter, si. 
Heaven bless and reward her ! 

Polly’s heart thrilled with gratitude that 
she had found so much affection in this 
strange land, and closing her eyes she was 
almost instantly asleep. After great excite- 
ment there is apt to be a corresponding ex- 
haustion, and for several hours she did not 
again move. Then, she awoke from a con- 
fused dream in which she fancied that Miss 
Brown’s school-bell was ringing and that she 
was late, while Deacon Lysander Griffin ac- 
cused her of some great crime which she must 
go and confess before the Sunday congrega- 
tion. 

I’m sorry ! Oh I I’m sorry ! I didn’t 
mean ” she cried, hastily rising. 

Oh ! there is plenty of time, yet, if you 
loiter not. One wouldn’t anger the dear 
padre by tardiness, is it not ? And the vesper 
service is so sweet. Hasten, for madre mia 
has already gone.” 

It was only Inez standing beside her, her 
kerchief over her head, and her feet impa- 
tiently tapping the floor of beaten earth. 

Listen, the bells ! Are they not of the 


196 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

sweetest, holiest music, si ? From over seas 
they came on a big ship that could never 
suffer shipwreck, no matter how wild the 
storm, because of the holy bells of God. 
Away in that dear Spain, where I hope some 
day to go, the pious ones gave their gold and 
silver to make the bells, which should be 
rung in the wilderness to call the heathen 
Indians to worship. And the first thing, the 
very first thing the holy padre did, was to 
hang them in a tree-top and ring, ring, ring 
them — that the savages might hear. That 
was long, long ago, before even we, the Cali- 
fornians, came to our country. When there 
were only a few padres and soldiers here, 

beside the Indians. Now But haste I 

We shall be late ! ’’ 

Polly tried to hasten ’’ as she was bid- 
den, but everything bothered.” Her curls 
tangled and there was no brush to straighten 
them and she discovered, in dismay, how soon 
and how completely she had learned to de- 
pend upon the little maid, Juanita, for the 
services which, at home, she had always 
rendered herself. And while she blundered 
through her simple toilet, Inez gave her fur- 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 197 

ther bits of history concerning this, and the 
other missions which she so loved and vener- 
ated, so that the little gringo was in a most 
awed and serious mood when she crossed the 
road and entered into the white-walled church. 

The roomy building was well filled, and 
most of the kneeling worshipers were neo- 
phytes, or Christianized Indians. Men and 
women, with little children, and all of them 
so devout, that she rubbed her eyes to stare at 
them again. Could it be possible that these 
were of the same race which had come out of 
the wilds to ravage and destroy such homes 
as Santa Rosa ? 

With a shudder of apprehension, that she 
had not thought would torment her again in 
Sanctuary,” the Puritan-trained New Eng- 
lander bowed her own head ; and though she 
understood not a word of the service going on 
about her, she did understand the spirit of 
devotion which actuated it, and offered her 
silent petitions with a fervid simplicity which 
would have satisfied even Deacon Lysander 
himself. 


CHAPTER XI 


A LONG LETTER HOME 

“ Well, nobody else has come to the Mis- 
sion, and I believe the whole thing was just a 
scare. Si. En verdad. Or else, maybe, the 
Indians were making one of their — their 
^ raids ^ is it ? for more horses. ThaPs the 
worst of horses in California ! One has them 
and one has them not. To-day is the corral 
full. To-morrow it is empty. Why ? Be- 
cause the Indians, they also, love to ride and 
mind not that they steal to do so. Remember 
pretty Blanco, madre mia? How he was in 
his corral at sunset and at sunrise he was 
gone ? Well, that is how it has been this yes- 
terday. Behold how the sun shines ! Could 
it be so bright and yet look on evil? We 
shall hear the news that is good. Si. En 
veritas. Instante.” 

So chattered Inez, happily and hopefully, 
to chase the look of care from the face of her 
mother whom she so loved. They had passed 
a quiet night. At least, she and Polly had 

198 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 199 

slept as soundly as if there were no anxiety 
in the world ; and had not waked even when 
the silver-toned bells which Inez delighted to 
hear rang for matins. 

Doha Eulalia, on the contrary, had not slept 
at all. During the night she had heard the 
soldiers, always on guard at the Mission, pac- 
ing to and fro ; women who were commonly 
so silent at their rest-time talking earnestly, 
even if in low tones ; and at the early service 
which she had attended had seen the padre’s 
manner one of keen distress. And now she 
had small appetite for the well-prepared break- 
fast which had been placed before them. 

“ The Indians would not raid the horses at 
this time, niha mia. There are fewer at any 
rancho, or in the town, than at other seasons. 
Like you, it seems incredible to me that wick- 
edness should be abroad under God’s pure 
sunshine — but I fear. Ah ! here comes the 
padre himself, and we shall have news.” 

Entering, the priest gave them the saluta- 
tion of peace, then courteously inquired for 
the health of his guests, though he already 
saw the answers to his questions in the ruddy 
cheeks of the two girls and the pallid ones of 


200 POLLY, THE GRINGO 


the senora. His heart sank as he regarded 
her, for she looked so frail and wasted that he 
doubted if she ever left the Mission alive. In 
any case, he meant to detain her as long as 
possible, for San Pablo was the loneliest of the 
ranchos thereabout, and she without male rel- 
atives to share it with her. Trusted servants 
she had, indeed ; yet — who was trustworthy 
now ? questioned the disappointed padre. 

‘‘Your news, good padre? your news, 
please ! entreated Senora Peralta, as soon as 
the salutations were over ; and her old friend 
saw that kindness rendered a prompt and 
truthful answer necessary. Else, he would 
have spared her all he could of the painful 
details she demanded. 

“ Prepare then, my daughter, to meet and 
hear it courageously. The sadder is my tale 
because of the perfidy of one whom I had felt 
was truly a Christian. It was the boy, Vin- 
cente, who betrayed his guardian ; and it was 
for gold — gold, the accursed ! — that Tomas 
carried on the treachery. What has an Indian 
use for gold ? Nothing. Nothing. Yet 

“Oh, my father! was anybody killed? 
Was it a — a ‘massacre’ as Francisco said?” 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 201 


implored Polly interrupting. “ My brother, 

the light-haired gringo — is he — is he ” 

Padre Gonzalez turned his pitying eyes 
upon her and forgave the interruption. Also, 
a smile came to his stern lips because he could 
answer her cheerfully. 

The youth of fairness like your own, si ? 
He is well. He has but now brought a mes- 
sage and returned. He it is that seemed, they 
say, to bear a charmed life. Rather a life 
protected of the good Dios for the sake of 
many people. There was a fight. There are 
many dead lying unabsolved, unburied on the 
mesa. A score of red men, my poor wild 
children, for whom I myself would have died. 
And three vaqueros, who were toiling in the 
fields. When they saw the danger coming 
they started for the rancho but somebody — 
who shall say what one ? — fastened the en- 
trance between them and their weapons and 
they fell where they rode. But they were 
hurrying to their duty, to the defense of their 
master’s property, and they died without sin. 
Vincente had boasted of the gold and Maro 
had heard. What Maro hears he turns to 
evil ; for, alas ! he is not among the dead ! ” 


202 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Dona Eulalia was startled by her priest's 
vehemence, and might have thought it sinful, 
had she not remembered that there is an 
anger which is righteous. Waiting a moment 
till he had recovered himself and said a prayer 
for his own forgiveness, she begged his news. 

Santa Rosa was in ruins and, for the pres- 
ent, the family would remove to the Presidio j 
perhaps, to remain there until their home was 
rebuilt. The rescuing party had been in time 
to prevent much loss of life to the people of 
the rancho, though their dead numbered four, 
and among these Juana, the faithful, whose 
warnings if they had been heeded might have 
averted the disaster. Also, and this was 
mainly due to Roland's efforts, the marauders 
had been disappointed of their plunder and it 
was in revenge for this that they had fired 
the buildings. 

In the m^l6e Vincente, unhappily covetous 
lad, had been wounded and, fearing death, 
had confessed to his uncle that, for the sake 
of a share in it, he had disclosed the hiding- 
place of the uncounted wealth stored in the 
low attic between ceiling of the living-room 
and the roof This attic could be entered 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 203 

only by a trap-door in this ceiling and the 
rope ladder used in ascending and descending 
was hidden where none but Senor Ysidro 
knew. Failing the ladder, access to the treas- 
ure could be had but by breaking the roof and 
this had been the course attempted. 

Here it was that Roland’s old schoolboy 
habit of tree-climbing stood him in good 
stead, for he had not lost a second in mount- 
ing to the tiles and wrestling with the 
would-be robber there crouching. Jose had 
promptly followed, and others had joined 
them, with the result that though his home 
was devastated the money with which to re- 
build it was saved for Don Santiago. Con- 
cerning that struggle upon the convex tiles, 
Padre Gonzalez waxed eloquent and Polly 
listened with sisterly pride. 

But what could have tempted our poor 
Vincente?” asked Doha Eulalia, in amaze- 
ment. 

What, my daughter, but the evil one — in 
the form of gold ? The silly, misguided lad 
reasoned thus : that since a man could be so 
careless of his wealth as Don Santiago he 
would take the loss of it with equal careless- 


204 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

ness. If detected in the robbery the Indians 
would escape punishment because they were 
so ignorant of right or wrong ; and if they 
betrayed his share in the matter family pride 
would prevent Senor Ysidro from noticing it 
further than by a private reprimand. But 
Vincente relied upon the fidelity of Tomas 
— the real planner of the outbreak ; and 
through him upon Francisco — then upon 
Maro, the Hawk.” 

Francisco’s part had, indeed, been an uncer- 
tain one. He had warned Juana, his sister, 
of what was transpiring among the neighbor- 
ing redskins, and she had pleaded with him 
that if he chose, if he was not a coward at 
heart, he could prevent it. 

But, in truth, that was just what the fellow 
was — an avaricious coward. He feared Maro, 
whom he looked upon as a great, if wicked, 
warrior, and he craved gold. He had been 
but a go-between until it was too late, and he 
saw then that by his own weakness Juana 
had come to her death. He had now dis- 
appeared. 

Well, my daughter, the end of the un- 
happy business is that the Indians have been 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 205 

driven back, beaten, to their rancheria and 
will be peaceful for a time. The Don was 
right : a few determined white men are more 
than a match for many times their number of 
my wild children. The fair-haired gringo, 
Sehor Pancoast, will do what more he may be 
able for the Ysidros, then return to his home 
at Las Palmas, to continue as his father 
wished him. All the rancheros will be in 
perpetual guard — and I — ay de mi ! I must 
to the burials of the dead. 

As for you, honored lady and beloved 
children, consider this House of God your 
home for a long time to come. It is better 
so. And when el Capitan returns he shall 
find his daughter, our brave little gringo ! 
glowing with health and grown in the wis- 
dom. Adios, my children all. Adios.” 

There was nothing to do but accept the 
situation, and to Doha Eulalia this was the 
one spot where she could be most at rest and 
in peace, concerning the future of her darling 
child. She had always intended that, in case 
of her death, Inez should live with the Ysi- 
dros. Doha Dolores was the friend of a life- 
time and the comadre, godmother, of the girl. 


2o6 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

The relation between godparents and their 
godchildren’s families was always closer, even, 
than between those akin by blood ; and Doha 
Eulalia had had no fear concerning Inez’ 
future. 

However, this present arrangement was 
well ; and while the girls found their new 
existence monotonous there were still some 
novelties about it which were most interesting 
to Polly, at least. Also, finding that she could 
write. Padre Gonzalez provided her with pen 
and paper and she began a long letter to Aunt 
Mercy, which she meant to forward by the 
first eastern bound ship of which she could 
hear. Thus she wrote, Inez eagerly watching 
every movement, then trying herself to copy 
upon another sheet the curious, difficult char- 
acters which her companion inscribed so 
easily. Also, she learned her alphabet and 
made such progress that, almost before her 
young instructor knew it, she was spelling 
words of one syllable and ambitious for those 
of two. 

But this is what Polly wrote to Aunt 
Mercy. 

After describing all that had befallen her- 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 207 

self and Roland since they left Woodley, she 
resumed : 

And now, dear Aunt Mercy, you will un- 
derstand how I, even I, Polly Pancoast, hap- 
pen to be living at a Mission. Sweet Doha 
Dolores wouldn’t like that word ‘ happen ’ 
and I know you won’t. Yet it seems just 
' happen ’ — not as if all this strange story 
could have been planned for, as she believes. 
Oh ! I can hardly wait for you to know that 
lovely woman ! Except you, dearest, I be- 
lieve she is the noblest one in the world. I 
never saw anybody, beside you, so unselfish. 
It is as if you were twin sisters in your souls, 
though she had been raised a Roman Catholic 
and you a Congregationalist. Maybe it isn’t 
what dear Deacon Lysander would call ^ or- 
thodox ’ to say that I suppose it’s the same 
God — Dios — you both love. And you’ll be 
surprised, too, to see that word * dear ’ written 
before the Deacon’s name. I wasn’t so fond 
of him when I was at home as I am now, 
away from it. Oh ! dear ! Looking back on 
them it seems as if every single person in 
Woodley township was adorned with a halo, 
like the pictures on the white walls of this 


2o8 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Mission. I love them all, now I can’t be with 
them — which sounds silly but is the truth. 

“ There are thousands of cattle and horses 
belonging to the Mission just as there are to 
the ranchos, and there are almost as many In- 
dians — the converted ones, not the uprisers — 
to take care of them. Indeed, I don’t believe 
a Californian could count anything except by 
the thousand. Inez cannot imagine how we 
got along with just seven cows, though I tell 
her we had lots more of nice milk and butter 
and cheese than they have here. Well, the 
good Padre Gonzalez has let his Indians have 
a ‘ temescal ’ and last night they used it. A 
^ temescal ’ is a hole, or cave, dug in the side 
of a hill, with a little hole in the top for the 
smoke to go out. There is a pool of water 
close by, and what do you think they did? 
Why, they made the hottest kind of fire they 
could and heated great stones in this cave and 
then a great many of them, men and women, 
went in and sat around the fire till they were 
about roasted, or par-boiled I guess is better. 
Then when they had perspired until there 
wasn’t any more perspire left in them out 
they ran into the night air — it’s always cool 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 209 

here at night, you know — and plunged into 
the pool and danced about in it and had the 
wildest fun ever was. But when somebody 
gave a signal, out they came again and ran 
dripping to their quarters as gay as — as I 
didn’t think Indians could ever be. 

Living in a Mission is teaching me some 
things I couldn’t have learned at Miss Brown’s 
school, or even at the Academy at Portland. 
For one thing, I should have expected to 
starve to death, if I had to fix fiour for bread 
as the mahalas, or squaws, do it here. They 
have a metate, or flat stone ; not very large, 
set upon three legs, one shorter than the 
others, so that the stone slants from one end to 
the other. There is a little rim on the metate 
to keep the wheat from rolling off, and with 
another smaller stone the poor patient mahala 
crushes the grain for her bread or cakes. 
They powder the red peppers that way, too, 
after they are dried ; and though I’m begin- 
ning to like it better than at first, I do wish 
I could have one dish of something that 
hadn’t pepper in it. I think my tongue has 
become quite callous already. 

^‘Of course, for the Mission family, proper, 


210 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

there is a little better kind of mill. Two 
large, heavy stones, with a sort of hopper 
in the top where they pour the wheat. A 
burro turns the upper stone round and round 
and the flour falls onto a platform beneath. 
If the mahala or the burro doesn’t get the 
stuff fine enough at first they have to do it 
over and over again, till they get it right, as 
you made me with that one stocking I knit 
once, and that nearly drove me crazy, I hated 
it so. I’m sure I never could be a mahala or 
a burro. I haven’t the patience ; and, by the 
way. Padre Gonzalez says there is some talk 
of somebody — rather indefinite, it seems to 
me — but, maybe, sometime, there will be a 
real grist mill ! Where people can get as 
much as an arroba of flour at one time. 
Think of it ! With all their money, not to 
have real mills ages ago ! An arroba is a 
weight of twenty-five pounds. It’s a new 
word I’ve learned and I do love to air my 
Spanish. I hope, dearest auntie, that you are 
duly impressed, and when you read this letter 
to Jonathan, please lay particular emphasis 
on my foreign language. Blessed old Jona- 
than ! If I could think of some great 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 21 1 


remedy in use here Fd tell him about it, but 
I can’t think of anything now except rattle- 
snake oil and that’s too creepy to suggest. 
The Indians like it though. I wonder if 
they use it to ‘ dress ’ their grasshoppers with ! 
for I’m told the grasshopper is the delight of 
an Indian epicure. 

“ It is almost time for the matanzas, and 
I’m more interested in that than in anything 
else. Because it’s the time when — if ever — 
my dear father should come to this place. 
But — I’ll write more about that some other 
time. Inez has just come to me in great ex- 
citement. There is to be a conscription for 
the army and Jose Ysidro, and Vincente 
Castro — who’s all well again — are expecting 
to be drafted. They hate it. There is no war 
and to be in the army is, they think, the worst 
fate a young Californian gentleman can en- 
dure. I must go and hear about it and will 
write some more — some time. In any case, 
this letter has been a great many days on the 
^ quilting frame,’ but I shall finish it very fast, 
as soon as I hear of a ship that will carry it. 
I’ve rather been waiting to hear of Captain 
Marshall being in port. His voyages on this 


212 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

ocean are not so very long, I guess, and if he 
takes it I know he will do so straight to your 
own dear hands. Then he will tell you all 
about your runaway, far better than she can 
write. So, good-bye, for now.’’ 

There was a break of many days before 
Polly resumed her letter, though the writing 
of it was a great pleasure to her and seemed 
almost like having a talk — though a one-sided 
talk — with her far away aunt. But, at last, 
came a day when she found leisure to continue 
it, and she did so, seated at a little table under 
the date palms in the garden. Inez was with 
her, of course. They were inseparable and 
Polly felt that she could not have loved an 
own sister better than she did this little Cali- 
fornian, whose life just now was shadowed by 
a coming grief. 

Dearest auntie, I’ve laid this aside for so 
long that it seems a fresh letter I’m beginning. 
Doha Eulalia has been very ill. She is so, 
still, and Padre Gonzalez has told me that he 
cannot believe she will be with us long. Inez 
knows this, at last, and her courage under her 
sorrow is wonderful. We have both watched 
the sehora and waited upon her almost en- 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 213 

tirely. She likes our attention better than 
that of the Indian women here, although they 
are devoted to her and would do all in their 
power for her. But she cannot forget that 
they are Indians, still, and that it was by one 
of their race that her husband was killed. 

“ She is better, to-day ; that is, she is not 
suffering so much, though her sweet face has 
grown painfully thin and wan. It brings the 
tears to my eyes just to look at her when she 
is asleep, but Inez never cries. She scolded 
me for doing it, lest it should grieve her 
mother and said : ^ I won’t weep now. There 

will be time enough for tears — afterward.’ 
But there ! I mustn’t let myself get thinking 
about her or I shan’t be able to see to write. 

“ The matanza is over. The matanza is the 
killing time and, to me, it is a dreadful one. 
It is as bad as if all the farmers and butchers 
in Maine had had one general slaughtering 
day. The Mission has a large herd of cattle 
which are paid by the rancheros as ^ tithes ’ 
out of their own stock. ‘ A tenth of the in- 
crease of the cattle belongs to the Lord,’ 
Padre Gonzalez told me, and I couldn’t help 
wondering if the Lord liked to have His por- 


214 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

tion paid in the blood of helpless creatures. 
But then — I'm only a girl and many, many 
things puzzle me. 

“ But the padre asked us to go and see the 
matanza, as I was so interested in everything 
about California, and we went. They put 
fifty cattle into a corral, and a vaquero lassoed 
one by its horns and led it out of the corral 
to the spot where they wanted it. Then an- 
other vaquero came up and lassoed it by its 
leg. Then the man on the horse made it 
take a sudden leap — the horse seemed to know 
just what was expected of it — and the poor, 
rope-caught creature was thrown to the ground. 
Next the vaqueros tied the animal’s legs all 
together in a bunch, leaving their riatas with 
one end fastened to their saddles and the other 
on the fallen steer and the horses standing as 
firm as a rock with the ropes drawn taut. 

Then But I can’t write about the next 

part. They killed the beast, that is all ; and 
after it hundreds more. But I was interested 
to know about the hides and tallow, for that 
is my father’s business, the horrid stuff he 
deals in and makes his money out of It 
takes two days to kill and ‘ try out ’ fifty cat- 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 215 

tie, and there were many, many days of the 
work. They stretch the skins out on the 
ground to dry, and they ^ try out ' the fat in 
great pots. There are two kinds of fat, it 
seems. The outside fat, next the skin, is what 
they put, when it is half cooled, into bags 
made of the skins — some of them — and sold 
to father and other supercargoes for tallow. 
He buys the skins, or hides, too, and that is 
the cargo he carries all the way to New Eng- 
land. There is an inside fat which is finer, 
and that the people here use as we use lard at 
home. It brings a good price and but very 
little of that ^ doubles the Cape.’ They throw 
the horns away, or give them to any super- 
cargo who will carry them off. Father, they 
say, does take a great many to Boston. I 
don’t know what they do with all the meat, 
though the Indians eat a great deal of it. I 
suppose at Woodley they would make it into 
‘ dried beef,’ for Luther Dowie cures enough 
for his own use even here. But they either 
don’t have much salt or don’t know how to 
use it as they do the red pepper, so lots of 
things go to waste. I think it would worry 
you, the waste that goes on in this country. 


2i6 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

“ I wrote all this about the matanza because 
I want you and Miss Brown to know that I 
am trying to learn all I can, even of unpleas- 
ant things. 

Besides, I wrote about the matanza, partly, 
to tell you why I am worried. Our father 
should have been here long ago. Especially 
he should have been at the matanza, be- 
cause the supercargoes of the different ships 
always arrange beforehand with the cattle 
owners for their hides and tallow, sometimes 
a year ahead. If they don’t come and claim 
their property, why, the ranchero or padre 
doesn’t wait for them. The first supercargo 
that comes gets it, and the one who bargained 
finds nothing left for him. There is a lively 
competition among the different ship-people, 
I hear, and they say that father is one of the 
liveliest buyers ^ on the coast.’ 

People are getting worried about him. 
Other people besides Roland and I. They 
think I don’t know it or overhear their re- 
marks to one another, but I’ve picked up 
enough of their Californian talk to under- 
stand ; and we have settled it, my brother 
and I, that if nothing is heard from father 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 217 

very soon we will start ‘ up-country ^ to look 
for him. That is, I have settled it, though 
Roland is inclined to object. Anyway it 
seems as if I couldn’t wait any longer to let 
him know what I did — run away — to ask his 
forgiveness, and to try to prove to him by my 
actions that I am sorry and willing now to 
obey him in everything. When I see Inez 
grieving for her mother yet saying nothing — 
I begin to think of father and what I should 

feel if I never saw him again. I ” 

There was another sudden break in this 
lengthy epistle, and then an abrupt con- 
clusion. 

Dearest auntie. This is my postscript. 
Padre Gonzalez has just told me of a ship 
that sails for the Atlantic this very day. He 
is sending letters of his own by the ship’s 
captain, a stranger, and not dear Captain 
Marshall, as I had hoped would carry this, 
and tells me to finish and seal it at once. He 
will dispatch it with his own mail, and so, in 
a terrible hurry at last, with a thousand and 
one things to say yet Good-bye, good- 

bye, my dear, darling, precious Aunt Mercy 
Hallock, of Rock Acre Farm, Woodley, Maine I 


2i8 POLLY, THE GRINGO 


I needn’t send any love in the letter — that is 
already with you. Polly.” 

Thus the epistle ended in a way that would 
cause the recipient on the other coast ” many 
an hour of anxiety, but Polly did not think 
about that until it was too late, and the letter 
had gone. For wise as she was striving to 
become, Polly Pancoast was still but a girl, 
and sometimes a very thoughtless, if greatly 
loving, one. 


CHAPTER XII 


NATURAL TEARS AND MYSTERIOUS LAUGHTER 

Some further time had passed when, in an- 
swer to a summons sent by a passing mes- 
senger, Luther Dowie appeared at the Mission 
to see Polly. Already he foreboded what her 
business with him might be, for she had 
hinted at it on their last meeting, but he was 
not one to meet trouble half-way, and calmly 
waited for her to begin. She did so with 
some hesitation, deprecating disapproval; but 
finally, out came the matter in a great hurry : 

“ Luther, I’m going to find my father. 
Roland will go with me — I hope.” 

Luther continued to chew the bit of herbage 
which he held between his lips, without re- 
mark, his gaze fixed on the prickly-pear hedge 
inside of which they stood. 

'' Why don’t you say something — any- 
thing?” demanded Polly, her heart sinking 
at his apparent want of sympathy. 

'‘That’s a ticklish job,” he observed, and 
he pointed to the cacti spines. 

219 


220 POLLY, THE GRINGO 


^^Well, what of it? We aren^t trying to 
break through it, are we?” asked the little 
gringo of this taller one, who seemed so like 
home folks ” that she turned to him natu- 
rally in trouble. 

Same thing,” he replied, sententiously. 

“ Do you mean that it will be just as diffi- 
cult to find him ? ” 

He merely nodded, affirmatively. 

But difficulties won’t stop me. I hope 
they won’t stop Roland.” 

Luther could express a great deal without 
saying a word. Now, by the simple lifting of 
his eyebrows and his inquiring gaze he de- 
manded the whole story ; and it showed how 
readily the pair understood each other that 
Polly immediately answered the look, at the 
same time pushing a small garden seat toward 
him. She knew that he had walked a long 
way to see her, declaring that for a man as 
rheumatic as he that exercise was easier than 
riding. He accepted the chair without thanks, 
considering that his doing so was equivalent ; 
then he turned the pea-cod over and again 
waited, calmly. 

Polly dropped on the ground at his feet 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 221 

and clasped her hands upon his knee, say- 
ing : 

There’s something wrong about father’s 
not coming. I can see that all his friends 
think so, and he has a great many here. 
Hasn’t he?” 

^^Yep.” 

I’ve thought it all out. I can ride. I 
can ride much better than I could when I 
was at home, and I’m sure Sehor Ysidro will 

lend me Nineto. If Roland will only go 

We can ride up north over all the roads 
by which he would come and — and find 
him.” 

“ Might come by sea. Few head-winds that 
way,” commented the ganan, or ploughman, 
with an extravagant waste of words. 

If he were coming by sea he would have 
been heard from. That man whom Roland 
saw, that other captain, said the Columbia 
was still at Yerba Buena, waiting orders to 
come south. Oh 1 I know all about it. I 
found a rough map in Padre Gonzalez’ library 
and it showed that place away up at the north 
and this so far down the coast. The man said 
that nowhere, at any port, had there been word 


222 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

of my father and — Luther ! I can’t bear it ! I 
cannot ! ” 

The other said nothing — in words. He 
simply laid his rough hand on Polly’s droop- 
ing head and stroked it awkwardly. In his 
own heart he felt, as his neighbors did, that 
harm had in some way befallen the jolly Cap- 
tain Pancoast whom, everybody liked. Also, 
he comprehended how the runaway girl was 
doubly unhappy because of her disappoint- 
ment at confessing her fault — if fault it had 
been to follow her kin. Luther was not so 
sure about that as he was of some other things. 
If this impulsive child did put her plan into 
action there was nobody on that side the con- 
tinent who had a right to forbid her. Roland 
was older, but of his authority there was ques- 
tion. Besides, if Polly started on her “ wild 
goose chase,” the boy was certain to join her 
in the quest. He might object now, but he 
would never stay behind if she departed. 
There was another matter he decided then 
and there but, for the present, kept to him- 
self. 

I hate to leave Inez, knowing, as the doc- 
tor says, that her mother cannot live long ; 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 223 

but my father is dearer than anybody except 
Roland And Why, what? 

It was not the hour for any service, yet at 
that moment, the bells in the church tower 
began to toll, very slowly and gently, a few 
strokes at a time — then a pause : and on 
again, and again. The women busy about 
the great house within the court fell on their 
knees where they chanced to be and bowed 
their heads in prayer. 

Luther, also, uncovered his grizzled pate 
and reverently covered his face with his 
hand, while through Polly’s heart shot a 
keen pain of sympathy for one she loved. 

Poor Inez ! It is the Passing Bell. Doha 
Eulalia’s sufferings are over,” she thought. 
Then memory reminded her how she had 
heard just such solemn tollings in that dis- 
tant village where she was born and again she 
realized that, all the world over, human na- 
ture is the same in its joys and in its griefs. 

But there also came, though without rejoic- 
ing, the reflection that now she was set free 
from her self-imposed duty of sharing Inez’ 
sick-room watch. The orphan would at once 
be taken in charge by Dona Dolores at the 


224 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Presidio, whither she, too, would doubtless be 
expected to go. But her mind was made up 
to a far different course, and unless it was im- 
possible to carry it out she should not give it up. 

Yet for that day, at least, she must put her 
own affairs aside. So, rising from the ground 
where she had waited until the bells ceased to 
toll, she whispered to Luther that she would 
see him again as soon as she could, begged 
him to help her in her trouble by planning 
her trip for her and by persuading Roland to 
a right way of mind,” and softly crept into 
the house and to Inez. 

‘‘ Poor little creatur’ ! She’s a full orphan 
herself by this time, I misdoubt. ’Tisn’t in 
reason but what there’s some harm happened 
the Captain. Yet who can blame her for 
wanting to find out for certain, or find him — 
alive — as she looks to do ? Poor little gringo 
girl ! ” thought the close-mouthed Luther. 

In due time, Inez alone went with her 
comadre to stay at the Presidio. To all 
invitations, even entreaties, that she would 
share this safe home, Polly had returned a 
decided if piteous refusal, though she con- 
sented to a few days’ visit, saying : 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 225 

I came to California, by myself, to find my 
father. I must still find him if — he is alive. 
If he is not, and so beyond hearing all I want 
to say, I must find that out, too. I shall 
start alone, on my own feet, if I am not 
allowed to go in a better way. It isn’t, dear 
Doha Dolores, that I do not love you and 
appreciate all that you are doing for a 
stranger ” 

Never a stranger to me or mine, niha mia,” 
interrupted Sehora Ysidro, reproachfully, ‘‘ but 
the new daughter I have found, such as the 
good Dios might have sent to make me glad.” 

Polly caught the lady’s hand and kissed it ; 
but there was no alteration in her decision. 

That is so sweet of you to say, sehora ; 
and if my father were here I would never 
want to go away. I would like to send for 
Aunt Mercy and have our own home here, 
and have my darling auntie get warmed 
through and through, just once in her life. 
I remember her best as shivering with the 
cold of a New England winter, and though 
our summers were delightful — ugh ! but it 
was bitter at New Year ! I’d like to have her 
bask in this sunshine till, for once, she was 


226 POLLY, THE GRINGO 


nicely comfortable and cozy. Maybe all that 
will come true — when we find father.” 

“ Caramba ! As for me, I, myself, would 
enjoy of that coldness a breath on this so 
sultry morning 1 ” returned Dona Dolores, 
with fervor. “ And as for that ride up the 
hot coast — ah ! my child ! Abandon the plan 
for the present. Si. Put it aside and trust to 
the good Dios that all is well.” 

Polly fiushed. She disliked this continual 
contention for the plan she had formed and 
considered right and she hated to go against 
the wishes of this kind friend. The height of 
summer heat was then upon that land, with 
the parching dryness that saps all moisture 
from everything and that would grow worse 
and worse until the autumn rains. But the 
cool nights made Polly forget the scorching 
days and her anxiety gave her no rest. 

Yes, dear senora, it is terribly hot just 
now, I know that, though I do not mind it in 
these nice thin clothes you got for me. That 
reminds me, I want to know how much they 
cost, if you please ? That is, how much more 
there is to pay for them, so that I can tell my 
father and ask him to return it to you.” 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 227 

Even Inez, sitting silently beside her be- 
loved gringo, whose arm clasped her fondly, 
started from her sorrowful abstraction at 
this question. The discussion of pecuniary 

affairs Why, what had young girls to 

do with such matters ? Did not one’s attire 
come as naturally as their feathers came to 
birds ? Was it not of the rudeness, the dis- 
courtesy, indeed, to ask for a reckoning of 
money ? En verdad. Si. So Inez had 
always thought, accepting all her simple yet 
beautiful garments with no more care con- 
cerning them than she had about the sun- 
shine which warmed her or the flowers that 
made her glad. 

Even Sehora Ysidro was, for an instant, 
perplexed. She had always been accustomed 
to help her husband with accounts,” intend- 
ing to relegate this duty to her son Jose as 
soon as he was fitted to perform it ; but those 
were large affairs. As for this small business 
of the little gringo — she remembered now. 
That other capitan, of the name Marshall, 
who was the friend of her friend, el Capitan 
Pancoast, why, yes ! He had given her 
money and said it was for the child, Polly. 


228 POLLY, THE GRINGO 


For clothes ? Had it been for them he meant 
it ? Would she not of her own free will and 
expense provided for any stranger within her 
gates who was in need ? Surely, surely. And 
Polly-Margareta had sorely needed. For her, 
she herself, there was the opinion concerning 
that Tia Mercy in the cold New England ! 
The woman must be of the nature to match 
the land where she lived, else no child belong- 
ing to her, as this sunny faced gringo, would 
have been so impoverished of the wardrobe as 
was her small guest. No. Indeed, no. But 

the reckoning Well, if the troubled 

Polly-Margareta wished to hold it in her own 
possession To be sure she should. 

“ Wait, niha mia. I will return/^ observed 
the sehora, after thus much reflection on the 
subject ; and, going into another room for a 
moment, presently came back, carrying a 
small purse of Mexican stamped leather. 
This she opened upon Polly’s lap and laugh- 
ingly counted from it the whole amount she 
had received from Captain Marshall — twenty- 
flve dollars of American gold. 

Now behold ! Is it correct, my wise little 
maiden of the book-learning, yes ? ” 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 229 

Polly gazed at the coins, amazed. Then 
asked in an awed whisper, “ Was all that 
left?’’ 

All left, is it? To be sure. Certainly. 
Without doubt. Why ? Is it not sufficient ? ” 
exclaimed Dona Dolores, with more spirit 
than Polly had ever seen her show and with 
such a color deepening on her cheek that 
the easterner saw she had offended. Inez, 
also, gave her a hasty nudge ; for the little 
Californian knew what the other girl did 
not : that her hostess would on no account 
have touched the money she held in trust for 
the stranger, and that the question the latter 
had asked had seemed an imputation upon 
the sehora’s honesty. 

“ Sufficient ! Oh ! It makes me rich ! It 
makes everything possible. It takes away 
the last obstacle against our going to find 
father. Oh ! you darling lady ! Captain 
Marshall did not tell me how much there 
was, but I don’t see how you could, how you 
possibly could, have bought me all you did 
yet had so much remaining. I had wondered 
how we should buy food along the way, in 
case the fruits and berries were not enough ; 


230 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

but this makes me feel so safe and happy. 
I understand now what Jonathan meant 
when he used to say that ' your money 
is your best friend.’ Without it one is so 
helpless, I guess. Yet, here have I been 
all this long time and had not a cent before 
— and, oh ! I don’t know ! Things are so 
puzzling and life is so — so hard ! ” 

Dona Dolores was but half-mollified and 
wholly surprised. Life hard ! ” So had 

said the sunny one, yet As she looked 

up Inez shot her a comprehending glance — 
of warning, of patience, and of things to be 
explained. So the generous senora smiled 
again. One could always understand her 
beloved godchild, who was of the same peo- 
ple and habit. And, in any case, Polly had 
meant no affront and she was, herself, already 
ashamed of her fleeting vexation. Hark ! 
there was the bugle sounding ! It was diffi- 
cult for the men in uniform, but always the 
children loved to see the soldiers at their 

drill. The soldiers Ah ! In the mere 

word was suggestion of fresh trouble for her- 
self But put it aside — the bridge ” need 
not “ be crossed ” just yet ; and the gay sight 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 231 

might bring a smile back to the sober lips 
of the darling Inez. 

Polly carefully bestowed her purse in a 
safe place behind a pillow of the bed, thereby 
arousing another exchange of glances between 
her friends, and followed them beyond the 
ramparts to the plain before the Presidio 
where the soldiers were forming in ranks for 
their daily practice. 

To themselves this practice was most tire- 
some, though it formed an important feature 
of their monotonous day ; and from the 
shade where an officer courteously placed her 
and where other refugees at the fort joined 
her, the once busy mistress of a great rancho 
compassionately watched the manoeuvres of 
the guard. 

Oh ! but it is the dreary, idle life — this 
army ! If there were war, a mother might 
give her son to the good cause. Si. For 
one’s country much can be done and suffered. 
En verdad. But to live like this, ants in a 
hill without the industry of ants — wearing 
away manhood and ambition and all that 
makes life worth living in an endless round 
of — nothing at all ! The conscription I 


232 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

hear there is a fresh one to be made im- 
mediately,’' remarked Sehora Ysidro to an- 
other mother near. 

Si. But, in truth, there may be fewer to 
conscript than the fine government requires. 
What prevents our sons from departing to 
safer places and till safer times, is it not ? I, 
for I, myself, would furnish the fleetest horses 
and the fattest purses. Si. En verdad,” re- 
turned the mother with conviction, and not 
caring one whit if the whole garrison over- 
heard. 

The great General has already one hun- 
dred, maybe two hundred good soldiers at 
Sonoma, is it not ? This then is number in 
plenty to capture the Indians which molest. 
If the gringos come in force sufficient — as some 
say they will — to take our California from our 
own government, of what use then a few men 
more or less ? They are a great people, los 
gringos. A man whispered to his neighbor 
and his neighbor to me, of a truth, that the 
‘ Squad of Ten ’ to capture and draft our sons 
is marching upon us even now. Well, then, 
I have a plan, I. Listen. If one could pay 
money to purchase immunity, that were well. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 233 

But no. One’s only son and no other — upon 
that will the General insist. I have a 
plan, I.” 

Senora Ysidro, also, had a plan.” If this 
were true that she had heard, if the recruit- 
ing squad ” were already marching southward 
toward her home, it was full time that her 
plan should be tested. Also, it was a plan 
which might help Polly, the little gringo, to 
attain her own desire. It would make an ex- 
cuse, and a reasonable one, for the departure 
of those whom she would rather not have 
found when called for. 

A sudden smile, amused and brilliant, over- 
spread the mobile features of the lady of Santa 
Rosa, and courteously bidding her neighbor 
on the bench “ Adios,” she rose and bade 
the two girls follow her. To Polly she 
was especially kind, beaming upon her with 
that strange smile and saying, enigmatic 
ally : 

“ The little daughter of an eastern village — 
rancheria, pueblo, what you will, si ? She, the 
unknown, to thwart the mighty government 
which lords the California republic ! Nina 
mia, the little one, the innocent Fair-Hair, 


234 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

against the grizzled veteran ! My hand upon 
it, querida, the Fair-Hair wins ! 

When they had reentered her rooms at the 
Presidio, Doha Dolores made all haste to dis- 
patch messengers for several persons : her hus- 
band ; her son, Jose ; Vincente ; Luther 
Dowie ; and Ronald Pancoast. Moreover, she 
was so impatient for the return of these mes- 
sengers and the appearance of those whom she 
had summoned by them that she could not 
content herself with her drawn work and a 
quiet seat by the palm shaded window, but 
must needs pace the long apartment restlessly, 
thereby heating herself uncomfortably and 
greatly surprising the little maids who watched 
her. Yet all the time her face so sparkled 
with mischief that Inez, whispering to Polly, 
asked : 

Can you not now believe what all the old 
women say about my comadre ? That when 
she was of our age, querida, she was the mer- 
riest one in California ? That at all the fan- 
dangoes and fiestas, it was she, Dolores Mar- 
tinez, who set every one to laughing, and that 
where she passed all tears were dried. Ah ! 
But what can it be now, at this late day when 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 235 

she is the mother of big sons, that should 
make her so gay ? 

But to them the sehora vouchsafed no ex- 
planation until haurs later, when those for 
whom she had sent arrived and gathered to a 
sort of council in the big room where, with 
lighted candles and drawn curtains, she eagerly 
awaited them. 

Don Santiago was as much in the dark as 
anybody, and, wearied by his day’s supervision 
of the rebuilding of his home, was inclined to 
resent her gayety. After the affectionate sal- 
utation with which he greeted her, he asked : 

But what is the mystery, querida mia? 
Not since the destruction of Santa Rosa, our 
dear home, have I seen you look like this. It 
is as if all sorrow and anxiety had passed from 
you and left you but a girl again. Yet home- 
less, so to speak ” 

“ Here, Jose. At my side, close. Let me 
have all of you I can and when I can. Ah ! 
my son, my son ! Are you not worth many, 
many homes to me — to us ? And what would 
any home, even Santa Rosa again as it was, 
be worth without our boy ? Eh ? Answer me 
that, if you can, sweetheart,” cried this hith~ 


236 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

erto dignified matron, seating herself upon a 
settee and drawing Jose down beside her. 
Then she pushed Polly forward, who blushed 
and stared and could scarcely believe her ears 
when she heard the senora demand — of any- 
body who chose to reply : And is not this 
the dainty little conspirator, this little gringo 
from that state of Maine ? Who sails over two 
big oceans, and, daring baby that she is ! de- 
fies a mighty government? What shall be 
done to her ? What punishment is fit for such 
as she, save this — and this — and this ? ” 

At each repetition of the word, Polly was 
caught against the mother's breast and kissed 
and kissed again : while the astonished audi- 
ence stared and wondered if the beautiful 
woman had suddenly lost her good sense. 

Not so good Luther Dowie. He had not 
been a silent, close observer of humanity for 
so long without understanding something of 
its workings. Doha Dolores was caressing 
Polly, but the love in her eyes was for Jose. 
In fact, then, she was using Polly to benefit 
Jose. How ? Ah, he understood ! 

Humph ! " he said tersely. Fine body- 
guard for Polly." 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE SENORA’s plan 

Dona Dolores laughed, and so gaily that 
the others laughed with her, though without 
understanding why. Then she held out her 
hand to Luther Dowie, and this action was in 
itself surprising to Don Santiago. 

But the gahan showed no hesitation in re- 
turning the hand clasp, bowing as courteously 
as a Californian might have done, smiling so 
brightly that his rugged face was transformed, 
and remarking only : 

Thank you. I^m responsible. At once.’^ 

With that he went away, nodding to all the 
company present and leaving his mistress to 
explain the riddles which they two, alone, 
understood. She did this now, though in a 
roundabout fashion, prolonging to the utmost 
her delight in puzzling the others, yet sure 
that she would meet with no opposition in the 
end. 

“ The good son of our uncle Briones lives at 
Yerba Buena? ’’ she asked of her husband. 

237 


238 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

'' Certainly. You have long known that, 
querida. Porque ? ” 

“ Yes ; and of the mighty General he is the 
friend. Of a friendship so close, en verdad, 
that they are but brothers with differing 
names. Am I still right ? 

Sehor Ysidro nodded, yet still puzzling 
what was in his clear-headed wife’s mind. 
Something to the point, and to their mutual 
happiness, he was sure. 

Buen’. Brothers in heart can influence one 
another. If in anything one seems to go 
against the General, the friend, our uncle, has 
but to speak the word and all is well. Now 
from the north sends out this great man to 
conscript our Jose, our Vincente, — many 
more. To the north departed the good father 
of our Polly-Margareta. Comes he again ? 
Not yet. Buen’, I say. Then to seek him 
ride our beloved little gringos whom none can 
conscript. Well, then, for escort, our children 
go too. Is it courtesy to let a guest depart 
alone ? In truth, no. No, indeed, no. But 
if one rides toward the conscripting guard, 
one cannot so be accused of disloyalty to one’s 
Republic. Si ? ” 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 239 

Tate ! Softly, querida mia ! ” warned Don 
Santiago, amused by his wife’s ingenuity. 

One should love one’s country, one’s gov- 
ernment — that is true.” 

One’s country, yes. If in danger, then 
let the conscript take its course. But one 
adores one’s son ! Between a government 
and a son I do not hesitate. Let us go on. 
Though one rides toward the ^ squad ’ one 
need not necessarily meet it, eh ? This Cali- 
fornia is wide and its roads many. The 
easiest road is by the coast, from Mission to 
Mission, and that way will travel the ^ squad.’ 
From Mission to Mission will ascend Polly- 
Margareta, commandress of a party — some 
might call them rebels. When the ^ squad ^ 
is at one Mission, our children are at another. 
They will be looking always for a missing 
Capitan, and in good time they will find him. 
Then the joyful return — everybody safe, not 
one forced with the army and still not one 
disloyal. Save this sweet small gringo from 
the state of Maine, who so innocently frus- 
trates the designs of a mighty, patriotic gov- 
ernment. For Polly-Margareta, Viva ! ” 

Don Santiago had nothing to oppose to this 


240 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

fine scheme of his wife’s. He hated the con- 
scription of his son into an idle army as com- 
pletely as she did and, now that there was so 
much to be done in the restoration of their 
home, felt that he needed Jose more than 
ever. As for Vincente, penitent and tractable 
as he had been since the outbreak,” he was 
of a temperament to be influenced for evil if 
forced into a life of idleness. His guardian 
now intended to purchase a near-by rancho 
for his nephew and place him at the head of 
it, feeling that to be in a position of trust 
might keep him straight,” as Luther ex- 
pressed it. 

Luther himself had shown that he did not 
intend to be left out of any affair in which 
Polly and Roland were interested and, even if 
he had but small faith that they would ever 
find Captain Pancoast, he would superintend 
the party of young searchers and their quest 
with trustworthiness and zeal. 

Therefore, Senor Ysidro promptly lent his 
aid. He had Padre Gonzalez prepare certain 
letters to be presented to Senor Briones in case 
of need, though if all went well Jose would 
introduce himself and his companions in per- 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 241 

son. If, as might be, Captain Pancoast had 
been captured by the Indians anywhere in 
Alta California, Senor Briones could easily 
procure a searching party of soldiers from his 
friend, the General, to look for him. Senor 
Ysidro also told Luther to take his best wagon 
and fit it up for the two girls, or anybody who 
might be found ill — meaning, of course, the 
missing American — or who might become so 
on the long journey. For this road which 
the young gringos might have to traverse 
numbered several hundred miles, and it was 
well to be prepared for any emergency. Also, 
into the gahan’s capacious wallet the ranchero 
stuffed such a quantity of gold as made Polly's 
eyes widen and her own small supply look 
humble, indeed. 

Luther smiled over the best " wagon, re- 
membering the sort of vehicles in which east- 
erners travel, but it was a very comfortable 
affair, after all, when the capable Yankee had 
finished with it. He not only cushioned it 
with mattresses, but arranged a seat for his 
passengers ; and he continued the skins with 
which its sides were stretched so that they 
crossed the top and made a rude kind of 


242 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

carryall/' He selected two pairs of the fin- 
est oxen in the herd, to draw the wagon on 
alternate days, and the easiest horse for his 
own use in riding beside and guiding them. 

The three youths started upon their own 
fine mounts, and to Polly and Juanita were 
assigned Nineto and Inez' own Cremo, as 
being the only part in the cavalcade she was 
permitted to take. She had earnestly pleaded 
to join the party, but Dona Dolores had re- 
fused to let the girl out of her sight. For a 
time, at least, the orphan would require the 
tenderest, gentlest attention, and the possible 
hardships of the trip were not for her. Jua- 
nita was sent, as a matter of course. No 
young senorita of the lady's own class would 
be permitted to undertake such a journey, as 
this unusual one of Polly's, unattended, and 
the little gringo must not be less cared for. 
Indeed, she was heartily thankful for this 
arrangement. 

Though she had implicit confidence in 
Luther and was delighted to have him in 
charge of the party, as he had silently decided 
he should be on that morning in the Mission 
garden when she first told her intention, she 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 243 

felt that another girl, even an Indian, would 
be '' lots of company for herself. As she 
said to Inez : 

“ It won’t be like having you, dear, but 
Juanita will be a deal better than nobody. 
Maybe, she’ll talk more when we are alone 
together, and anyway, I like her. I’m sorry 
for her, too, and the things she sees by the 
way may help her to forget ” 

Startled at what she was about to say, Polly 
abruptly paused, and Inez gently finished her 
sentence for her : “You were going to say 
^ forget her mother,’ but nothing could ever 
do that I think. It never could me — and 
Nita’s human, like the rest of us.” 

“ Forgive me, darling. I’m such a 
wretched blunderer ” 

“ You’re a good, sympathetic friend, Polly- 
Margareta, and I shall miss you — oh ! How 
I shall miss you ! ” 

Stroking the dark head resting against her 
shoulder, the other resumed : 

“ Roland will be so interested in the other 
boys that he’ll not care much for my society. 
I mean, of course, I shall be just as sure of his 
loving me and all that, but boys’ talk is more 


244 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

interesting to him. Then that good Luther — 
Well, you know how few his words are ; 
and I mean to get Juanita to teach me a lot 
more Indian sentences, so that I can surprise 
my father when I find him. Think ! His 
little Polly Pancoast, born and brought up — 
so far as she^s got ^ up ’ — in a New England 
village has already learned a deal of ‘ Califor- 
nian ^ besides the Indian stuff. Won’t he be 
astonished ? ” 

“ You feel so sure to find him, Polly ! I 
wish — I wish you wouldn’t count on it so 
much. Things that, one wants most are the 
things one doesn’t get — it seems to me. There 
was I praying and praying for la madre yet — 
she went away. And ” 

'‘You must pray for me, Inez, dearest. 
Will you ? I shall love to think of you at 
matins or vespers kneeling over in the old 
church and saying your prayers for me. As 
I will for you. I can’t to any pictured per- 
son, no matter how good, but I can in the 
simple way I’ve been taught, and it’s the 
same Dios, Inez, darling ! Just the same. 
You’re to comfort dear Dona Dolores, you 
know ; for under all her cheerfulness I know 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 245 

her heart aches for ruined Santa Rosa, and 
that no other home will ever be quite the 
same to her as that was. And Felicidad — 
maybe she will grieve and worry about her 
brother, for she is anxious about him, I think 
— so you will have her to cheer, also. Oh ! 
You^ll have plenty to do, Inez. You're to 
fill all those sheets of paper with writing ; 
they shall be letters to me to read after I get 
back. And I’ll write to you, very, very often. 
I’ll get Padre Gonzalez to give me paper and 
things and if we meet anybody coming this 
way I’ll send you whatever I have written, 
whether ^much or little, or if the person will 
carry it.” 

Of course, he’ll carry it ! Would any- 
body be so rude as to refuse a favor like that ? 
And it will be lovely, lovely ! I shall be on 
the watch all the time.” 

The last hour passed so swiftly that Inez 
declared it had been but a moment. Polly 
had secured her writing materials from the 
kind priest who, in common with everybody 
else, had come to see the start from the 
Presidio, where the travelers had met for the 
purpose. Even the once scornful Felicidad 


246 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

had held the little gringo lovingly in her 
arms, for an instant, and had kissed her 
sunny curls with real affection ; finding thus 
an opportunity to whisper into the ear they 
shaded : 

‘‘ I will try to take your place in cheering 
our Inez, Polly-Margareta ; and if, some- 
times, I haven’t been as — as cordial, is it? 
as I should, please forgive it. I do not for- 
get, I, how it was your brother, Don Roland, 
who fought for my Vincente when the 
Indians turned against him, thinking he 
had — he had defrauded them. That awful 
day ! I shall remember it forever. Si. 
And in the Mission I will add my prayers 
to Inez’ and Tia Dolores’ for the safety of the 
perilous trip you make.” 

Polly returned the affection, in sudden 
self-reproach that she had not earlier under- 
stood the nature of this proud, spoiled 
senorita, and with a tear she could not 
quite repress, turned hastily away and was 
swung into the wagon by Don Santiago’s 
arms. Then he deposited Juanita on the 
seat beside her, Luther cracked his whip, 
and the cavalcade started. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 247 

“ Vivas ! ” rent the air and, by a pre- 
arrangement of the three departing lads, a 
squad of soldiers fired a farewell salute. 
Then the shouts and the reports died away 
and, turning about upon her hide-covered 
board-seat, Polly caught a last glimpse of her 
friends. Doha Dolores, no longer gay with 
an unusual sprightliness, but once more the 
placid, dignified matron whose smile was 
still cheerful though her heart ached with 
foreboding concerning this long journey 
through a sparsely settled country upon 
which she had sent her beloved son. 

Then they all vanished in a blur, and 
Polly brought her tearful gaze back to her 
immediate surroundings. Until then she 
had scarcely observed how fine an appearance 
the little caravan presented. 

Of all the party about her, Luther alone 
looked natural. He had not exchanged his 
worn sombrero for a better one nor added 
any holiday feature to his attire. He be- 
strode his horse with the familiar stoop of 
shoulder with which he always rode, his 
clothes were faded to a uniform tint of 
dull blue, and he was still chewing his 


248 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

peas-cod as if it were a most delicious 
morsel. 

Glang ! he chirruped to his oxen be- 
fore the wagon, and, without turning about, 
reached back and swung his long goad about 
the legs of the led pair, hitched to the 
wagon’s rear. 

To better exhibit their present magnifi- 
cence, the three youths dashed widely down 
the street leading to the trail beyond the 
town, then wheeling at a signal and riding 
swiftly back again, to wheel once more and 
caracole about the wagon, shouting and 
cheering one another, and behaving wholly 
as boys will, no matter in what part of the 
world, when setting out upon a season of 
adventure in congenial company. 

The Santa Rosa lads were richly equipped 
in trappings provided by Senor Ysidro ; and 
lest his ward, or apprentice, should be one 
whit behind his comrades, Senor Mercado 
had presented Roland with an even choicer 
outfit than theirs. If his clothing had as- 
tonished Polly at their reunion on the hap- 
less rodeo ground, she was now so amazed 
that her brother appeared a stranger. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 249 

His gold laced knee-breeches were of velvet, 
met at the knee by botas, or leggings, of the 
same dark blue, yet of the softest kid and 
exquisitely stamped in graceful designs. A 
heavy silken cord of crimson, finished with 
tassels of mingled gold and silver, was also 
wound about the knee and glittered in the 
sun. His long vest of the same blue velvet 
was resplendent with golden buttons and his 
short crimson jacket was gold embroidered. 
His sombrero was worth even more than that 
for which he had incurred his first debt, and 
he now wore it with a graceful, rakish sort of 
charm which made even Luther “ open his 
eyes.” His poncho, or cloak, was of blue 
broadcloth, trimmed on the edges and about 
the collar with bullion fringe. His saddle 
was silver embroidered and his bridle of finest 
horse-hair made in links, and these links 
joined by mountings of silver. His saddle 
was of the most elaborate Mexican style 
and its various parts of stamped leather 

nearly covered his horse. His stirrups 

Well, they made Polly exclaim, indig- 
nantly : 

Those stirrups alone are heavy enough to 


250 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

tire any horse, without putting anything sil- 
lier above them ! ” 

At which Luther chuckled and inquired : 

Meaning which ? Boy or clothes ? ’’ 

Both ! cried the sister, yet so good na- 
turedly that the flush which had risen to 
Roland’s cheek faded away. 

“ Well, these aren’t ^ debt ’ flxings, little 
sister. They’re all a present from that gen- 
erous gentleman, Don Miguel Mercado. I 
wouldn’t like to guess what they cost, only 
this I know — they’re far handsomer and 
costlier than those I left behind. I don’t 
know what I can ever do for him to repay 
him.” 

Duty. G’lang. So — so-o — so-o-o ! ” com- 
mented the ganan, whether to boy or oxen 
he did not explain. 

Then they struck into a faster and steadier 
pace. By midday Luther intended to reach 
a valley he knew, where all the hot summer 
through a stream of living water sparkled in 
the sunshine or played at hide and seek be- 
neath the overhanging bushes. Polly had 
already learned the difference between living 
streams ” and arroyos, though both were rivers. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 251 

The latter were mere rivers of sand during most 
of the year, and so dry-looking it was difficult 
to believe they could ever change into fierce 
torrents. 

But, indeed, everything in this new land 
was wonderful to the little gringo, whose eyes 
found so much to look at and study that they 
began to ache. The glare of the unshaded 
trail added to their discomfort and, to rest 
them, she dropped her head upon Juanita’s 
shoulder and closed her lids. 

She awoke with a start. The wagon had 
stopped ; and though she had intended riding 
for a good bit of the way upon the pretty 
Nineto, Folly had not once left her seat 
until now they had reached the shadowy 
canon where the noon rest and repast were 
to be made. 

“ Why ! Why — where are we ? ” she de- 
manded, springing to her feet and then 
finding herself swung down to the ground by 
Luther’s strong arms. 

“ At the Golden Tavern ! ” answered that 
amused person, pointing to the multitudes 
of wild poppies which, though so late in the 
season, still lingered in this cool, moist ravine. 


252 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Oh ! cried Polly, rubbing her eyes and 
gazing about her in ecstasy at the masses of 
yellow bloom, the great palm-like ferns, and 
the lovely wild lilac which made the spot a 
veritable garden. 

Permit me, companera mia ! ” cried a 
voice behind her, and there was Jose bowing 
to the earth and holding toward her a mag- 
nificent bunch of the glowing poppies. It 
was of these that the first Spaniards — my 
ancestors — sailing by beheld and gave from 
them the name to our country — ‘ Land of 
Fire.’ Gold to gold ! ” he finished, gallantly, 
touching a poppy to her sunny curls. 

Polly swept him an answering curtsey, as 
profound and graceful as even Felicidad might 
have accomplished, which showed that she 
was fast acquiring the customs of her Cali- 
fornia friends. Also, as Inez or Felicidad 
would have done upon receipt of such a pretty 
compliment, she touched her lips to the fiower 
and thrust it into her frock. 

Then somebody whistled, and facing about 
she beheld Roland staring at her and, appar- 
ently, as much amazed by her manner as she had 
been by his adoption of the Californian dress. 



“GOLD TO GOLD!” HE FINISHED. GALLANTLY 


1 



4. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 253 

But Polly was not to be dashed by any 
brotherly comment and gaily kissed her finger 
tips to him, also, remarking : 

Thank you for that tribute to my improve- 
ment, Roly dear ! And now, Juanita, let’s 
help get dinner. ^ Men ’ are so clumsy, you 
know ! ” 

For the title “ Man ” which her brother 
claimed sat illy upon him just then, his lively 
enjoyment of the whole situation was so ex- 
ceedingly boyish and immature. He and 
Vincente were already foraging in the baskets 
of provision and making a sad mess of their 
contents, scrambling for good things in the 
most undignified manner. 

All right, Miss Gringo ! Only be quick, 
and be sure you portion out enough ! ” he re- 
turned, dropping down upon the ground where 
she was now spreading a white cloth and af- 
fecting to tremble with eagerness. was 
never so hungry in my life ! ” 

Nor I ! ” added Vincente, struggling for a 
tortilla Juanita had unearthed. 

As for me, behold ! I famish. I die ; ” 
whimsically wailed Jose, throwing himself 
prone before her and dramatically closing his 


254 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

eyes. He opened them rather suddenly, find- 
ing the hottest kind of a stuffed pepper thrust 
between his lips, while his jolly little cam- 
panera ” — or “ comrade,'^ as Polly was to be 
known and to prove during all that trip, mis- 
chievously observed : 

That especial favor was because you were 
the only one, Senor Ysidro, to remember my 
love for flowers ! 

Jose swallowed the pepper without flinching 
while Luther laughed as the young folks had 
never heard him do before. Indeed, he was 
like another boy himself just then, and en- 
tered into the fun of that hour as if there were 
no care in the world and no prospect of sorrow 
to the young easterners he now loved so 
dearly. 

It was the merriest of meals, and after it was 
over the two girls washed their few dishes in 
the pool below the spring, Juanita protesting 
against Polly’s share of the labor and the lat- 
ter insisting upon performing it. 

“We are equals, Nita dear. Indeed, you are 
more than that to me, since you are an Indian 

princess Ah ! I know ! Dona Dolores 

told me how your grandfather was king of his 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 255 

tribe ! — a princess come into your own king- 
dom ! cried the easterner, sweeping her arm 
about to include the wide country. 

Dinner over and the heat still continuing 
intense, all the party except Polly stretched 
themselves out for a nap. She, already re- 
freshed by her sleep in the wagon, was wide 
awake and eager to explore the canon. It was 
a beautiful green cleft through a sun-parched 
mesa, and, though unseen, the sound of the 
near-by sea and its saline fragrance were pleas- 
ant to her and she wandered further from her 
friends than she realized having done. She 
was still anxious to go on, for : 

“ It seems as if I might get a glimpse of the 
ocean if I kept on, and it looks as quiet and 
safe a place as the pasture at Rock Acre. Just 
a few rods further, to the point beyond that 
next curve — then if I don’t see the water I’ll 
go back.” 

The point ” she sought was walled in by 
mighty blocks of granite, shrouded at the top 
by the chaparral and scrubby pines ; while 
the canon itself had suddenly shrunk to the 
narrowest of passages. Yet there, indeed, lay 
a glimpse of peacock-blue water, gleaming in 


256 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

the sunlight, and Polly breathed a sigh of 
satisfaction that she had not abandoned her 
search for it before. 

There was not room to sit down nor, indeed, 
anything but the most jagged of rocks about 
her, and the girl rested from her tramp by 
leaning against the stones and gazing through 
the aperture upon the sea she loved, thinking : 

I must be a true daughter of a sailor, for 
I delight in the ocean — in either one. I 
didn’t know that at home, where I’d never 
seen anything bigger than the river ; but 
now, if father will let me sail with him as 
Mrs. Marshall sails with her Captain — how I 

shall enjoy it ! But father Where is he ? 

Shall I ever see him again ? It’s a relief to 
be looking for him, actually on the way to 
him, yet ” 

A little shiver of foreboding made her close 
her eyes, as if to shut out unwelcome thought ; 
but the next instant a soft swift sound of 
something rushing through the air made her 
open them again. 

There at her feet, lodged upright in a cleft 
of the bowlder by which she stood, was an 
Indian arrow. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 257 

In affright she cast one hasty glance up- 
ward, seeing nobody on the heights, where, 
indeed, nobody could have been seen because 
of the screening shrubs, then seized the arrow 
and turned and ran back at her swiftest pace 
over the route she had come. 

At the temporary camp all were still sleep- 
ing save Juanita, who sat awake and motion- 
less, her dark eyes full of brooding and her 
heart of grief. She was worse than orphaned 
now with her mother gone and her evil father 
powerful to claim her if he so chose. It was 
of him she was thinking when, panting from 
her haste, Polly lightly touched her and held 
up the arrow to view, scarce understanding 
why she had snatched it from the rock. But 
the effect of it upon Juanita was to make her 
spring up and recoil in horror, clasping her 
hands behind her, while her brown face grew 
ashen white. 


CHAPTER XIV 


WHEEE IS CAPTAIN PANCOAST 

Then, while Polly was still staring and 
mutely asking an explanation, Juanita 
snatched the arrow away, ran with it to the 
wagon, and hid it beneath the mattress on the 
bottom. Coming back she pleaded : 

Say nothing, senorita mia. Let the 
sleeping dog lie. He can be roused when 
needed. Si. En verdad.^^ 

Though she quoted the maxim in Spanish 
Polly understood sufficiently well to know 
that the incident were better not mentioned to 
their companions. Indeed, it had thrown her, 
as well as Nita, into a mood far different from 
the mirthfulness of the midday meal, and she 
was glad when Luther rose and remarked : 

Jogging. Fifteen miles.” 

She did not know that he had been wide 
awake and an observer of what had passed be- 
tween herself and Juanita concerning the 
arrow, nor that he had recognized its signifi- 
258 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 259 

cance as promptly as the latter had done. But 
he had, and fully agreed with the Indian 
maid in letting that uncanny dog ” lie. 

They were soon upon the road again, both 
the girls now riding their pretty horses and 
Luther upon the wagon seat, resting from the 
obnoxious saddle exercise. The three lads 
were as gay as ever and, fretting at the slower 
pace of the oxen, made constant detours to 
this side or that, each emulating the horse- 
manship of his comrades and all accomplish- 
ing many feats that seemed wonderful to 
Polly. 

To throw a handkerchief upon the ground 
and, retracing one^s course, to ride past and 
pick it up again without more effort than 
stooping from the saddle was a very ordinary 
deed of the two Californians ; but when, after 
many fruitless efforts, Roland finally suc- 
ceeded in doing the same, their generous 
Vivas ! rang in the air and Polly^s sisterly 
pride grew great, indeed. 

Sometimes, the girls followed the lads for a 
short distance out of the beaten track ; yet 
neither of them, since the arrow incident, felt 
comfortable beyond sight of the wagon ; and 


26 o POLLY, THE GRINGO 

as for hours at a time they met nobody else 
upon the road the trip grew monotonous and 
fatiguing ; so that everybody was glad when, 
turning once more away from the coast, along 
which their route had lain for awhile, they 
came in sight of the Mission where they were 
to halt for the night. 

In general character this one was so like 
that where Polly had dwelt for a time, and 
the padre who came to the gate to greet them 
was so like the good Padre Gonzalez, that 
Polly felt instantly at home ; though Roland 
found time to whisper, as they entered the 
cloister : “ Imagine Deacon Lysander putting 
up at this tavern ! 

Taverns ” for the accommodation of all 
travelers were what the hospitable Missions 
practically were in those days; and situated 
as they were, about thirty miles apart, they 
furnished convenient stopping places for per- 
sons passing up and down along the coast of 
the great Republic. So that Roland’s term 
was not so far amiss, though an accidental one. 

The padre in charge welcomed the boy as 
if he were a dear child, long absent and ar- 
dently longed for ; calling him ''My little son,” 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 261 


and assigning to him the best of everything 
the place afforded. Indeed there was some- 
thing indescribably winning about the young 
gringo when he chose to exert himself, as he 
now happened to do ; and his manner and 
striking beauty were supplemented by such 
rich attire that, all unknowing whom he 
might be, the padre made the very natural 
mistake of considering him a much more im- 
portant personage than he was. 

Roland’s imitative nature made him, also, 
readily fall into the way of speech which con- 
firmed this impression ; and when at the first 
opportunity he asked, ‘‘ Do you know any- 
thing about Captain Pancoast, of the Colum- 
bia ? ” the answer came with considerable 
spirit : No — but I wish I did ! Here have 
I been keeping my hides and tallow for him 
and letting other buyers go, because of my 
word given that to him they should accrue 
and to none other. Caramba ! And they are 
spoiling on my hands. The man is either a 
villain or some mischance has befallen him. 
Are you, too, among the rancheros he has 
robbed of a good market ? ” 

I am no ranchero at all,” replied Roland, 


262 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

promptly, and would have added much more, 
had not Polly rushed forward and catching 
hold of the old padre’s hand, exclaimed : 

“ Oh ! don’t say hard things of that precious 
man, good sir ! He is our father and we fear 

— we fear We have started to find him. 

Help us, if you can ! ” 

Greatly puzzled, the kind hearted priest 
looked from one to the other of this fair haired 
pair, noticing their resemblance now, yet won- 
dering at the characteristic Californian attire 
which both of them wore. All the other 
gringos he had met had kept their eastern 
habit of dress and were readily recognizable 
by it. But the indignation vanished from his 
manner which now became one of utmost 
gentleness and compassion : 

Forget the idle speech, my daughter. 
Doubtless, the good Capitan has his own rea- 
sons for delay and will come again when he 

so pleases. If he comes Well, then he 

is the honorable sefior. He will of the loss 
make good that our Mission has suffered. Si. 
En verdad. He will never defraud the house 
of God. Always, hitherto, I found him more 
than generous and many a night has he passed 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 263 

here, beguiling the hours with tales of that 
far land whence he comes with his rough 
speech and big heart. Ah ! dear to me is el 
Capitan ! Believe me.’^ 

But — you speak of danger to him. What 
danger can there be ? I never heard of him 
being ill or 

Laying his hand in blessing upon her head 
he reproved her gently, as Dona Dolores 
would have done, saying : 

Have no fear, nina mia. Our times are 
in the hand of the good Dios. To Him the 
care — to us the prayer. To your knees, nina, 
and pray.’^ 

Then summoning the mahala who had 
charge of the young Indian girls, he sent her 
and Juanita away; but Luther, who was as 
usual silently studying the scene about him, 
observed an expression of profound pity steal 
upon the padre’s face as he watched the child 
depart, and his own forebodings found confir- 
mation. 

Striding to the side of his host he pro- 
pounded the terse inquiry, “ Dead? ” 

Dead or dishonest,” answered the padre, 
as if the terms were equivalent ; and taking 


264 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

his breviary in hand began to pace the clois- 
ter, intent upon the book and nothing else. 

Luther’s temper rose. For some time he 
stood watching the absorbed padre, who 
noticed him no more than the pillars of the 
cloister till his anger forced expression, a 
wordy one for him. Shaking his fist at the 
cleric’s retreating back, he ejaculated : 

“ No such thing, you old man in petti- 
coats ! He’s alive and’ll come back to thrust 
your libels down your slick old throat. You 
— you — I ” 

Eh ? Did you speak ? What is it, at 
your service, my son? ” said the padre, wheel- 
ing about so suddenly that he caught Luther 
in the very act of the threatening fist and 
the insolent speech. 

“Eh? Oh! nothin’. Nothin’ worth men- 
tioning. I merely said — I think it’s a neat 
night.” 

“ En veritas,” replied the priest, calmly, 
with a twinkle in his eye ; and before he had 
made the next turn in his monotonous walk 
the irate ganan had disappeared. 

When one’s worst suspicions are confirmed 
by the opinion of others the first result is. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 265 

commonly, anger. Luther felt exactly as the 
padre did — but he hated to do so. He had 
grown to love the two young gringos as if 
they were his own children and fiercely re- 
sented anything which should grieve them. 
Feeling decidedly fiushed, and exceedingly 
floolish when he recalled that twinkling eye, 
he strode outside the building and con- 
templated the landscape, gleaming under 
the rays of an unclouded moon. But the 
sight instead of pacifying him appeared to 
add to his discomfort, for he glowered at the 
outspread beauty as if he would wither up 
the whole scene by one scorching glance. 

Shame. Burning shame. United States. 
Shall be yet.’’ 

Which those who knew him well could 
have interpreted to mean : This is too 
beautiful a land to belong to anybody except 
the United States, and we’ll own it yet ! ” 

Then he went to bed and forgot all his 
perplexities in sleep. 

All of his party save one, also, slept ; even 
Polly, whose heart was so heavy when she 
lay down that she confidently assured herself 
she should not be able to close her eyes that 


266 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

night. Nature took care about that. In less 
than five minutes after her head touched the 
pillow, her quiet breathing told Juanita that 
her little mistress’ troubles were over for a 
time. 

Not so her own. Though she lay down on 
the cot prepared for her beside Polly’s, she 
remained gazing through the open casement 
till the moonlight waned and daylight came. 
After that, for a time, she slept dreamlessly, 
but was already awake when a message came 
that Polly should awake and prepare for 
another day’s journey toward the north. 

After matins and breakfast were over and 
the travelers assembled before the Mission 
gateway, the gringos were treated to a fresh 
surprise. Instead of the horses upon which 
they had ridden the day before, others were 
saddled ready for their use, and in place of 
the led oxen — which now were hitched to 
draw the wagon — another pair were tied. 

Why, where is Nineto ?” asked Polly of 
Jose, who merely shrugged his shoulders and 
answered by a negative gesture. Nor was 
Cremo anywhere visible, and the two Cali- 
fornians were already mounted upon superb 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 267 

beasts, but of a color and size wholly un- 
familiar to the easterner. 

Finding everybody else inclined to ignore 
her questions, she put them to Juanita, who 
answered below her breath, as if fearful of 
giving offense : 

“ They will be sent home. I know not 
how. That would be a discourtesy to ask. 
At every stage of our long journey there will 
always be the best of entertainment, the 
freshest horses, the ^ well-come ’ and the 
^ safe-depart ’ — to and from every Mission or 
rancho where we may lodge. En verdad ! 
Men would be contemptuous, else. Is it not 
so in the gringo land ? 

“ No. I’m ashamed to say it isn’t. It’s 
^ pay ’ there for any service, no matter how 
small. Oh ! I love this big-hearted Cali- 
fornia ; and I’d like to live here always, if it 
weren’t for the Indians ! Oh ! Nita, dear 
Nita I I didn’t mean to say that ! For you 
are not of the sort of Indians I fear. Forgive 
me, please ; oh ! please forgive me ! ” 

It is naught,” returned the other, sub- 
mitting to, but not reciprocating, the caresses 
the repentant Polly lavished upon her. Deep 


268 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

in her heart lay such a love for the yellow- 
haired “ senorita that she would herself 
have endured any pain to have spared that 
dear one suffering ; but she was too humble- 
minded to offer an outward demonstration of 
her affection. 

One other experience proved the same here 
that it was to be elsewhere. For the enter- 
tainment of the entire party and the supply 
of fresh horses and oxen, there was no pay- 
ment expected nor received. Hospitality of 
the most unlimited sort was the law of the 
land, and the utmost an independent per- 
son, such as these gringos, could do was to 
leave some small sum at the Missions for the 
padres’ charitable use. 

It was an enlightened Polly who set out 
upon her second day’s journey, and that day’s 
incidents were of the same monotonous kind 
as of the previous one. This time there was 
no mysterious arrow to startle one’s compo- 
sure, and even the flowers and birds by the 
way began to assume a familiar, almost fatigu- 
ing appearance. 

The night was passed at another Mission, 
and here there was neither news, fears, nor 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 269 

abuse of the missing Captain. There was 
only the same question in the mouths of 
the padre and his other passing guests : 
“ Where is Captain Pancoast?’’ 

Evidently, their father was a widely known 
person, and his disappearance was arousing 
much comment : but the more he was dis- 
cussed the more anxious his children be- 
came and the more determined in their 
search. The gayety of the first day’s start 
had vanished altogether. There was an oc- 
casional outbreak of nonsense upon the part 
of the three lads, but gradually there had 
come over them all the consciousness that 
it was, indeed, a matter of life and death 
upon which they were engaged, and an un- 
usual sobriety had fallen upon the spirits of 
even the young Californians. 

It was not until the evening of the third 
day that anything occurred to arouse especial 
interest. They had proceeded duly north, 
had met a few horsemen riding southward, 
had exchanged the casual salutations of such 
accidental meetings, and had finally reached 
the next Mission where they were to pass the 
night. 


270 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

They were so late that the evening service 
was over and the lights extinguished ; but it 
was never too late for hospitable doors to open 
and wayfarers be admitted. Especially, when 
they came as these did with the blessing of 
brother priests and the introduction of such 
well known rancheros as Sehor Ysidro and 
Don Miguel Mercado. 

Luther’s ox-team had lumbered away to- 
ward a corral and he had already made ready 
for his own rest in the mattressed wagon — his 
usual sleeping place — when Jose came run- 
ning back out of the refectory, still mum- 
bling his morsel of bread and fiercely excited. 

Well? ” demanded the ganan, testily ; for 
his rheumatism had once more developed 
from his uncongenial exercise on horseback 
or in the jolting, springless wagon, and he 
longed for repose. 

^‘Well? It’s anything but ‘well,’ amigo 
mio ! ” cried the excited Jose. “ They’re 
after us ! We’ve got to cut and run — Vamos 
— depart — clear out — skipit, eh ? What is it 
you gringos call — but retreat at once; in 
good form, if may be, but retreat, anyhow ! ” 

Thus saying the lad swallowed his final 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 271 

crumb and putting his hands to his lips 
imitated the bugle call of “ Assembly.” 

Luther forgot his rheumatism and sprang 
to his feet. 

‘‘ You don’t say ! When — where — how ? ” 
Si. En verdad. Ciertamente. There is a 
man in yonder has just come from the Mis- 
sion and pueblo above and it’s there my fine 
‘ Squad of Ten ’ sojourn this night. They 
have reached further south than we thought 
at San Diego ; and to keep the straight road 
now is for Jose Ysidro and Vincente Castro to 
run their heads into the noose. En veritas. 
Well then, what? ” 

“ Do as you said — Vamos ! Is it not to the 
right of us, beyond the rancheria of these 
Mission Indians, that there lies the rancho 
of your father’s friend, Senor Pico? ” 

This was such an unusually lengthy speech 
for Luther to make that Jose stared. How- 
ever, the speech contained the sound advice 
which tallied with his own opinion, and he 
promptly acted upon it. Thus it was that 
instead of settling themselves to another 
night of slumber, two excited youths rode 
silently away across the plain, mounted upon 


272 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

the fleetest of horses. These had been hastily 
selected from the padre’s choicest corral, with- 
out any actual spoken word of permission, but 
by a tacit understanding between owner and 
borrowers. Of course, the padre was a loyal 
citizen of the Republic and a conscientious 
churchman ; therefore, he could not openly 
aid in the flight of Jose and Vincente. Yet 
it is known upon authority that it was he 
who suggested to his vaquero : 

“It is well that the sons of my beloved 
patrons should inspect my flne caponera in 
the green paddock. Manana — to-morrow, 
little son. Remember — mafiana. Adios. 
Pax vobiscum.” 

“ Si, padre. I hear, I comprehend,” an- 
swered the vaquero, and was at the corral 
when the Mission clock struck twelve. Mid- 
night. Well, then, one minute after midnight 
it is morning, and one obeys orders when 
those honorable, the master’s guests, are helped 
to saddle and mount and speed on their way. 
Thus let it be. 

So hasty was their departure, or so untoward 
the hour, that the departing lads could not 
bid their beloved little “ companera ” farewell, 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 273 

nor assure her that they would rejoin the 
party she commanded so soon as they felt 
secure in doing so. 

It was a very serious group which rode away 
northward on the morning after this event. 
Roland was lonely without his friends, who 
had been so great an addition to the company, 
even if of late they had fallen under the spell 
of anxiety which held the three easterners, and 
Polly missed their possible protection in case 
of need. Luther and Juanita were scarcely 
more quiet than usual, but to Polly the whole 
atmosphere seemed oppressed with some un- 
definable trouble ; so that when the road once 
more turned toward the coast, she announced 
her intention of riding ahead and by herself, 
though not beyond sight of the others. 

She did not ask Juanita to ride with her, 
and the latter did not offer to do so. The fact 
was that Polly wished to do a bit of hard 
thinking and to piece together, if she could, 
the stray bits of news she had overheard at the 
last Mission. 

“ The sight of the big, peaceful blue ocean 
will do me good, folkses ! ’’ she called at de- 
parture from them. “I’m getting as blue as 


274 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

— as that gentian yonder and not half so 
pretty. But 111 come back as gay as the 
poppies — if I can.’’ 

“ Ugh ! ” grunted Luther, feeling that some 
comment was necessary, and that this was the 
briefest possible. 

He, also, was profoundly thinking. The 
news which Polly had vaguely understood was 
quite clear to him. Captain Pancoast had left 
Yerba Buena (San Francisco) for the south 
and he had not since been heard from. 
Several other travelers had been molested by 
Indians which, upon report, the General in 
command had promptly subdued by a troop 
of soldiery. So far as known, no white men 
had been killed ; but Where was Cap- 

tain Pancoast? A vaquero had accompanied 
the Captain, but he had also disappeared ; as 
had the caponera of fine horses with which 
the supercargo started. 

“ Hmm. I wish that little Yellow-Hair 
was safe back in Woodley township, where 
she belongs ! ” was the conclusion of Luther’s 
soliloquy. 

Polly’s thoughts had, also, strayed home- 
ward, and her ‘‘ plans ” were no more definite 



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POLLY, THE GRINGO 275 

than when she had loped away from the 
others toward the shore. She still kept them 
in sight and from time to time waved her hand 
in signal that all was well. But when her 
horse’s feet touched the beach at that low 
point for which she had aimed, she forgot 
everything else at sight of a wounded pelican 
lying on the yellow sands. 

The horse she had been loaned that day 
was, like all the others she had used, as gentle 
as it was swift — having, indeed, been selected 
by her last host for those very qualities ; and 
she did not hesitate to leap down and bend 
over the injured bird, hoping to do it some good. 

Alas ! it was done to its death which, 
ignorantly, Polly hastened, by withdrawing 
from its breast a big, feathered arrow. 

Oh ! who could have been so cruel ! ” 
cried the girl, springing to her feet as the 
pelican gasped its last and glancing indig- 
nantly around. It was a wide, open space 
where she stood. There was neither shrub 
nor mighty bowlder to hide the archer whose 
aim had been so true, and the only person in 
sight was a brown-robed Franciscan priest, 
pacing sedately northward, his cowl over his 


276 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

shaven head and his bowed back toward her. 
He walked but slowly, as if the sun-scorched 
sands were already painful to his bare feet, and 
to his observer appeared as innocently harm- 
less as the dead pelican. Polly had now 
grown familiar with such wayfarers, who 
rarely rode the horses they owned but jour- 
neyed to and fro upon their errands of mercy, 
sustained only by their own devotion and the 
stout staff they sometimes carried. 

“ The poor padre ! Whoever shot that 
arrow might have hurt him !” cried Polly, 
aloud. I’ll take it with me — though I hate 
to touch it again — the wicked weapon of death. 
But Juanita will know of what tribe it comes. 
She is wise in the lore of her own race. I 
fancy — yes, it is ! It’s like that other one I 
pulled from the rock that first day of our trip ! 
Queer ! I wonder what it means — if any- 
thing ! ” 

The little gringo had learned to mount as 
easily as to dismount and with no more as- 
sistance, and now put her hands to her saddle 
and swung herself into it. Strangely enough 
she had not felt the slightest personal fear nor 
guessed that the arrows had any significance 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 277 

for herself : also it was strange that as she now 
turned back to rejoin her companions the plans 
she had been unable to decide were instantly 
settled. 

Go to San Carlos. There find what ye seek.’^ 
Why — what ? That was as plain to me as 
if somebody had spoken it in my very ear ! 
San Carlos. The Mission I have most wanted 
to see, where the great Junipero Serra, the 
father of all the Missions, died and was buried. 
I am to tell dear Dona Dolores, who venerates 
his memory, that I knelt by his grave — if one 
can find it — and said my prayers for her. 
San Carlos ! That is still, they say, a long 
way off : but we’ll make no unnecessary stops 
till we get there. To San Carlos and my 
father ! ” 

Not thinking what she held and excited by 
what she felt was an inspiration, Polly waved 
the stained arrow aloft, and cried aloud, as if 
already her friends could hear and under- 
stand : To San Carlos ! At San Carlos we 
shall find him ! ” 

Then suddenly, straight down upon the trail 
before her, as if in answer to her jubilant 
shout, fluttered and fell another arrow I 


CHAPTER XV 


ON AN UNFAMILIAR PLAIN 

Again, though startled and with her horse 
shying, Polly’s first emotion was of anger 
rather than fear ; and retaining her hold upon 
her bridle rein she slipped to the ground, se- 
cured this third trophy of somebody’s skill 
and, remounting, galloped to the point where 
the rest of the party awaited her. Just there 
was a fork in the trail, and Luther had no in- 
tention of letting his beloved “ Yellow-Hair ” 
take the wrong turning. Moreover, as the 
journey was prolonged and his rheumatic 
bones gave him continual trouble, he improved 
every opportunity of resting, even for a mo- 
ment. 

As she neared them Polly called, See ? 
We’re getting quite a collection of them, aren’t 
we ? ” and held the two arrows up to view. 

Ugh ! ” grunted Luther, indignantly, while 
his eyes filled with an angry light. 

Roland’s spirited horse had been curveting 
278 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 279 

about, restless under his new rider, but now 
came under control sufficiently to admit of the 
lad’s taking the arrows from his sister’s hand 
and examining them critically. After a few 
seconds, he cried : 

“ Look here ! There’s a picture on them ! 
A sort of hieroglyphic ! Indian writing — 
seems as if one were a continuation of the 
other ! Heigho ! This is interesting. Who 
shot them ? Who shot them ? ” 

How do I know ? The pelican was dying 
on the sands when I found it and there was 
nobody but a Franciscan friar in sight. The 
second one fell from the skies, I guess. It is 
really the third one, for though we didn’t 
speak of it before, one was shot at me, or close 
to me, that ver}^ first day we started, in the 
canon where we picnicked so merrily. I 
brought it back to Nita and she hid it in the 
wagon. She wished me not to tell and so I 

didn’t Why, Juanita, child I What are 

you doing ? ” 

The little maid had run up and snatched 
the arrows from Roland, had carefully exam- 
ined their points and now, with a strength that 
seemed extraordinary for one so slight, she 


28 o POLLY, THE GRINGO 

deftly broke the tough shafts squarely above 
the tips. The latter she plunged into the 
ground and pressed down with her heel. The 
arrows she returned to Ronald, bowing hum- 
bly, but saying merely : I was compelled. 
The pelican died, is it not? Si.’’ 

You mean that the points — are — poi- 
soned? ” faltered Polly, now turning very white 
and for the first time realizing the extreme 
peril in which she had been placed. 

Juanita gravely nodded. She, also, was pale 
and her eyes were full of perplexity, but she 
did not show the same consternation as on the 
occasion of that first arrow shooting. Also, 
she was regarding the marked shafts very in- 
tently, so that Roland asked : 

Is it writing, as I thought ? Can you read 
it for us ? Do you know to what tribe they 
belong? For see I they are as alike as peas in 
a pod.” 

I know not your peas in a pod, save such 
as Senor Luther chews,” answered Juanita, 
simply, while a smile went round at the 
ganan’s expense. 

But the makers of that particular sort of 
arrow — do you know them?” persisted Roland. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 281 


‘‘ Si. En verdad.’’ Then, for a moment, she 
seemed inclined to give no further informa- 
tion ; yet bracing herself to an unpleasant 
duty, she glanced into Polly’s eager eyes and 
answered : They are of — Maro, the Hawk. 

Behold. The hawk’s feather,” she finished, 
gingerly touching the plumes of the arrow as 
he again held it toward her. 

“ Maro, the Hawk ! This unhappy little 
mahala’s wicked father ! Better no father at 
all than such as he ! ” thought the easterner, 
and slipped a loving arm about her friend’s 
waist. Then to divert Nita’s thoughts in- 
quired, Can you read the ^ writing,’ dear ? ” 

For reply, the Indian maid ran to the 
wagon, brought back the first arrow which 
had come to them, and placed it with the 
other two, so that the three formed a contin- 
uous line and the drawings fitted into one an- 
other. Then she interpreted : 

“ The trail. The forest. The canon of 
rocks — not what you saw, dear senorita, but 
another — distant — wild — almost impassable. 
Through the canon a river. Around the river 
trees. It is a solitude. Few know it save the 
Great Spirit, who made it, or the wise padres, 


282 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

His children. Beside the river, under the 
river, all about the river — that for which men 
wrestle and fight. See ! the battle — the cruel 
end — the victory. But — the victory costs 
much. The arrows are not sent to kill — yet. 
They are to guide, whether to good or ill, I 
know not. That is beyond me. The writing 
is not finished. More will come, will fall 
about you, Daughter-seeking-the-lost-father. 
Beware that none touches your fair fiesh, else 
to you will come the pelican’s fate.” 

With her hands hanging straight at her 
side, her dark head thrown back, and her 
face inspired, Juanita had developed an elo- 
quence undreamed of ; and, for a moment 
after she had ceased speaking, none of the 
others stirred. 

Then Polly laid her hand upon the girl’s 
shoulder and said earnestly : 

Whether ^ for good or ill,’ as you say, we 
cannot tell who sends these feathered mes- 
sages, but for one thing I am thankful, and 
that is that you are with us. Juanita, from 
this on you take command of this search [ 
Say, tell me, quick ! Where first ? ” and eager 
to know whether the same thought would 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 283 

come to this other girl which had come to 
her, she bent forward and peered into Jua- 
nita’s face. 

San Carlos,” came the instant and firm 
response. 

Polly clapped her hands, though something 
like awe crept into her expression. She had 
never heard of the modern theories concern- 
ing the impression upon a sympathetic mind 
of one’s own thought, and Nita’s answer 
savored of the marvelous. However, she felt 
certain now that the expedition would better 
be guided by the Indian maid than by any 
of themselves, and herself made a little obei- 
sance toward the young leader. Then she 
playfully ordered Luther and Roland to : 

“ Salute your General Juanita, comrades ! 
And then to our — forward march ! ” 

Roland swept his gracefulest bow and 
Luther pulled his forelock, grimly smiling, 
and inwardly reflecting that on such a “ wild 
goose chase one might as well be led by an 
Indian — a good Indian — as an ignorant, pre- 
cious Yellow-Hair from the state of Maine.” 
Juanita received the salutations of her 
subordinates ” with the same sad serenity 


284 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

which always marked her bearing. There 
was no elation in her manner, though a little 
flush dyed her cheek when, at midday, halt- 
ing for refreshment, Luther proffered this 
terse request : 

“ Plan. Order. Immediate.” 

But she obeyed him instantly and the 
program she sketched was so simple they all 
wondered none had thought of it before. 
They were to proceed to San Carlos at great- 
est speed. Arrived there they would, doubt- 
less, And some fresh arrow-letters awaiting 
them. This would be so whether the sender 
of the same were friend or foe. At San Car- 
los they would stock the wagon with suffi- 
cient provision to last them for a long time. 
Equipped with everything necessary, they 
were then to push on into the wilderness — 
whither the hieroglyphics pointed. At the 
end of the “ painted road,” Juanita believed, 
would he found that which they sought — 
news of Captain Pancoast. 

“ Good enough. Agreed,” said Luther, and 
none objected. 

They traveled as swiftly as possible now 
and, by Juanita’s suggestion, mainly at night. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 285 

resting during the heat of the day, though 
as they moved northward this grew gradually 
less. There was still sufficient moonlight left 
to guide them and, in any case, the road was 
direct and unshaded. On such few nights as 
they camped to sleep, when even anxious 
Polly became so drowsy and tired that a stop 
was necessary, Juanita taught them how to 
protect themselves from the rattlesnakes with 
which the country abounded. 

A circular piece of ground would be cleared 
of all brush and dry verdure and the rubbish 
piled about the circumference. When all 
were ready to “ turn in,” this border would 
be lighted and burned, and they could all 
rest securely behind their rim of fire. Jua- 
nita, also, utilized the hated reptiles as food, 
roasting portions of their flesh for her own 
and Luther’s enjoyment, though Polly and 
her brother could not be induced to taste 
what the ganan declared were regular 
tidbits.” 

You’re welcome to my share of them ! ” 
returned Roland, with a shudder of disgust. 

“ Beats chicken,” said Luther, and helped 
himself to another piece. 


286 POLLY, THE GRINGO 


Indeed, it was wonderful how wise Juanita 
was in forest lore. Yet she had never before 
traveled further from the Mission where she 
was born than Santa Rosa or some other 
neighboring rancho, accompanying Doha 
Dolores upon a visit. Now by racial instinct, 
perhaps, she knew always in which direction 
to proceed, no matter how dense the timber 
they penetrated. She permitted no waste of 
time by following longer or more familiar 
routes but, guiding herself by the trees and 
the flying birds ” as she explained it, she led 
them due northeast to the point they sought. 
Polly would have liked better to keep near 
the coast, within sight of the blue ocean, but 
one or two objections had been received with 
such surprise by their new “ commander ” 
that the other regretted having such desires. 
After all, Nita was right. If she were to lead 
— she should be left to do so according to her 
own judgment. 

In fact she brought them to San Carlos 
long before they could have reached it by the 
beaten track ; and now ensued a day of 
hurried preparation for the last, most im- 
portant stage of their journey. Now, also. 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 287 

came into use the goodly sum of money 
which Don Santiago had given to Luther. 
Urged by Roland the gahan invested in 
enough provision to last the party for “a life- 
time,” as the thriftier purchaser protested ; 
and he supplemented the food by various 
camping-out comforts such as could be pro- 
cured at Monterey, where the San Carlos 
Mission was situated. These were crude, at 
best, but made the young gringo feel very 
rich and important. 

They made every possible inquiry, also, 
concerning the missing Captain ; but always 
with the same result. He had been due at 
this place long before. He had made busi- 
ness engagements which he had failed to 
keep. He had been known to leave Yerba 
Buena with a fine caponera of horses and an 
Indian vaquero to help manage them. He 
owned the horses and intended to ride them, 
one after another, as they recruited from a 
day under the saddle, till he reached San 
Diego and his final point of departure for 
the east. His ship was still at Yerba Buena, 
awaiting his direction to sail south along the 
coast. 


288 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

Another story was that his departure from 
that town had not been for the south. That 
he had been entrusted with some important 
secret business by the padre of the Mission 
Dolores, near Yerba Buena, and the Cap- 
tain’s strong personal friend. That with his 
vaquero and caponera he had ridden east, 
directly into the wilderness and among a 
tribe of often hostile Indians, to transact that 
business. That he had not returned nor since 
been heard from, and that the padre was dis- 
tressed beyond measure because he had dis- 
patched the sailor to his death. 

At San Carlos, also, as Juanita had pre- 
dicted and while the two girls were inspect- 
ing the Mission, there waiting the completion 
of Luther’s purchases, another arrow fell be- 
fore them ; but this time at the feet of Jua- 
nita herself. 

'' Well, this is the strangest thing. Once 
more there is nobody in sight, save another 
priest who is doubtless a brother of this house. 
But I’m getting used to these messages from 
the sky, and I can’t believe an enemy sends 
them. See, Nita, see ! The picture is clearer 
than ever. There is Isn’t that square 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 289 

meant for a house ? Is it this house ? And 
those jiggley marks — they are what you called 
trees in the other drawings. There are arrows 
pictured, too. Even I can see that, and they 
all point one way — to the east — for there’s a 
rising sun ! It surely means that ! If it were 
possible I should think the arrows were all 
sent by some friendly Indian. Only an In- 
dian could do that sort of drawing, I guess ; 
and there’s nobody My Indian ac- 

quaintances are few. Old Francisco — but 

there ! Nobody has seen him since Oh ! 

I forgot, again. I’m always forgetting that 
you’re anything except my own dear Nita.” 

Juanita showed neither offense nor surprise. 
Her surprise, indeed, would have been to find 
their arrow-guides failing them at this im- 
portant point of their journey. It was near- 
ing its end. Of that she was positive and that 
this suspense in which her little senorita had 
lived during all these past weeks would soon 
be over. At the pictured canon of rocks ” 
that which they sought would be found. 
Whether the finding would mean happiness or 
sorrow — that, even this far-sighted little 
mahala could not foretell. Neither did she 


290 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

incline to Polly’s faith that the arrow-guides 
were kindly meant. For that reason she had 
advised Luther to add to his stock of provi- 
sions a couple of guns, and had begged from a 
neophyte some bows and arrows for herself 
and Polly. With this primitive weapon she 
was an adept, her mother having insisted 
upon her early learning the use of it for self- 
defense against her father — if need arose. 
Polly had asked to be taught this real, native 
archery, and why not the lessons now ? 

Therefore, it was a well-equipped party 
which left Monterey that evening. No longer 
dependent upon chance hospitality and, in- 
deed directing their course toward the north- 
east, where few such chances would offer, their 
heavily loaded wagon creaked noisily over the 
rough way, the plentiful grease which Luther 
applied to the axles seeming only to pitch the 
squeaking in a shriller key. 

Truck. Nonsense. Simpletons. Whole 
pack. Wild gooser ’n ever,” grumbled the 
ploughman, as his clumsy vehicle struck a 
tree-root and was with difficulty extricated 
thence. 

At which Roland laughed and Polly joined 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 291 

him, though she now fretted over every triv- 
ial delay. Was she not on the last stage to- 
ward her beloved father ? 

I know it ! I feel it — not ^ in my bones,’ 
for that means trouble, but in my heart! 
Why should I be so happy, all at once and 
without any reason, if it isn’t that I am so 
near my father that I can almost see him.” 

' Cup and lip,’ ” quoted Luther, senten- 
tiously. 

But there’s to be no ^ slip ’ in this case. 
There is to be just the greatest joy and the 
best of times for every single body. Heigho I 
What’s this? A road? A trail? It cer- 
tainly looks like one 1 Does anybody live 
beyond this forest I wonder ? ” 

To avoid the difficult passage through the 
trees Luther had now turned his team toward 
the edge of the forest, where a clearing offered 
easier progress. The last oxen he had pro- 
cured were not as satisfactory as the others 
had been, and he must make the best of every 
smooth bit of road, even if in so doing he 
did go against the advice of their girlish 
guide. 

But he need not have feared offending her 


292 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

then, though it was she who had directed him. 
to travel straight through the woods. She, 
with Polly, was now examining the new- 
found trail, and after a moment, raised her 
hand to him, pointing eastward. 

‘‘You mean you want to go that way, 
Juanita? ” asked Roland. 

“ Si. It is the road.” 

“ All right. Trot along it, Luther, my 
friend ! Obey orders, you know ! ” cried the 
lad, laughing at Luther’s dismayed, or per- 
plexed face. The night was fast settling 
down, and though a belated moon would still 
give them light, the man felt that there would 
be less danger of rheumatism under shelter of 
the big trees than on that wide, open plain. 
He had not meant to leave the proximity of 
the forest with its protecting warmth, but 
merely to creep along beside it. 

Juanita had now taken the last arrow sent 
them and was examining it afresh. Then she 
showed to Polly a certain spot upon it which 
meant nothing to the little gringo but was 
evidently convincing to the Indian girl. Her 
expression showed that yonder lay their own 
trail, coincident with that one crossing the 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 293 

mesa they bad reached ; and without delay 
she now rode forward by herself. 

Polly galloped after her, nor did Roland 
linger; all three wishing to see whither the 
road led, and forgetting poor Luther, left be- 
hind with his stubborn oxen and his heavy 
wagon. 

Greatly disturbed, he lumbered after them. 
He feared danger to his Polly and meant to 
keep her in sight if that were possible. The 
child^s unreasonable happiness was making 
her careless. Who knew to what that road 
led ? Who knew if the mesa were as smooth 
as it looked, or if it were seamed with canons, 
as many another he knew ? If Polly^s horse, 
a fresh and unknown one that very evening 
— if it should stumble and fall and her leg be 
broken, or it should run away 

A thousand and one possibilities of ill 
passed through Luther’s mind, and made 
him drive so recklessly that he would have 
been ashamed to have had anybody see him. 
Mounted on a good horse himself, he goaded 
and guided his oxen with contradictory orders, 
with sharp slashes of his whip, with grunts and 
groans innumerable. 


294 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

“ G’lang ! Plague take an ox, anyway ! ’’ 
he cried at last. 

He had his wish and at once. For the first 
time in his extended experience he saw oxen 
run away. With an awkward but mighty 
leap forward the ungainly animals left him 
and his horse behind, the rude wagon roll- 
ing and swaying behind them, in danger of 
immediate upsetting — with destruction of all 
its contents. 

Probably never before in that great solitude 
was such a racket heard. The bellowing of 
the now wholly maddened animals, whose 
frenzy fed upon itself ; the horrible screech- 
ings and meanings of the wooden wheels ; 
the yells of the gahan, whose horse could 
now barely keep up with the oxen and was 
itself in a panic of fear — all this may more 
easily be imagined than described. 

With a mutual impulse the three riders, 
who had heard the din from afar, paused, 
wheeled about, and galloped backward to 
learn the cause. 

Then — a sudden silence, more startling, if 
possible, than the uproar had been. A hush 
so instant and complete that Polly shuddered 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 295 

with apprehension and exclaimed : Indians ! 
They Ve killed him ! 

But Juanita, leaning over her saddle, 
searched the distance keenly and an- 
swered : “ No. The plain is empty.’’ 

Then where is Luther ? ” demanded Ro- 
land, spurring forward. 


CHAPTER XVI 


RANCHO SOLEDAD 

Other ears beside those of Roland and the 
girls had heard that amazing racket where 
was usually an utter silence. Two restless 
lads had rushed to saddle and stirrup and 
galloped out upon the plain, glad of any- 
thing to break the monotony of an idleness 
which fretted them. 

Sounds like an earthquake ! Si cried 
one, leaning forward and peering intently 
into the distance. 

Like a thousand earthquakes rolled into 
one. Ciertamente. Sin duda. Guay I Va- 
mos ! answered Vincente, following. 

But Tia Monica ? Should not one of us, 
her nephews, stay to protect? In case the 
Indians ” asked Jose, still without check- 

ing his own speed. 

“ Tia Monica, indeed ! She of the brave 
heart and strong will? Who has lived at 
Rancho Soledad alone, with none of her kin, 

296 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 297 

since ever she was widowed ? Of what use to 
her, Jose amigo, of two runaway youngsters 
like us ? Eh ? demanded Vincente, promptly. 

Of little use, en verdad. But you, as for 
you, it is as if you wearied for that conscrip- 
tion you escaped,’’ said Jose. 

He had now gained the side of his cousin 
and the two were loping swiftly toward the 
spot whence, they fancied, the strange sounds 
to have come. 

En veritas. I weary of anything so quiet 
and piously ordered as the household of Tia 
Monica. The woman is a saint and belongs 
in a convent, not ruling a Rancho Soledad. 
Ah ! to be master of it ! With its thou- 
sands upon thousands of finest cattle in the 
Republic and its swarms of workers under 
one’s command ! That were a life worth liv- 
ing — for a man. But for a woman, like our 
Tia Monica ” 

“ Hold, son of my heart I ” warned Jose, 
laughing. Is it not of you, yourself, she 
would the heir make? Si. So I believe. So 
you will see. Ah I Look, look ! Yonder are 
others ? Caramba ! But I know them, I 
know them ! The gringos, the gringos 1 ” 


298 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

If they had ridden swiftly before, their 
horses now fairly flew over the mesa, heedless 
of possible pitfalls, and in a very brief time 
the young Californians had reached the spot 
where the others had halted above a yawning 
hole in the ground. Into this unseen pit had 
blundered the runaway oxen, the heavy wagon, 
and poor Luther, all in one heap. 

There was a second of hesitation while de- 
light at this unexpected meeting with their 
old companions found expression, then all the 
lads had dismounted and set about the work 
of rescuing the gafian. 

The hole was neither large nor deep enough 
to be very dangerous had it not been that 
the mixture of animals and unyielding wood 
within it made Luther’s position perilous. He 
was held down by the entanglement of his 
harness with that of the oxen ; and the blow 
he had received had at first so dazed and 
confused him that he could make no effort on 
his own behalf. 

The voices near him roused his wandering 
senses and with a desperate effort he ordered : 

Straps ! ” 

The straps 1 He wants us to cut the 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 299 

straps ! cried Polly, always quick to compre- 
hend her old, short spoken friend. 

Then all the lads leaped down beside the 
ganan and in a twinkling had set him free. 
It was they who helped him to the solid 
ground above, where the two girls petted and 
fussed over him with question and comfort, 
till he grew like himself again. Oddly enough, 
his first return of their attentions was a laugh ; 
at which they also laughed, though rather 
hysterically, since the transition from fear to 
mirth was so sudden. 

“ I said — ^ Plague take ! ^ and — it did ! ex- 
plained Luther, patting Polly’s hand. 

Why — but — how came you there ? Didn’t 
you see the hole ? It’s big enough and the 
moonlight clear — are you sure none of your 
bones are broken ? Do you think you could 
stand up if you tried ? ” she asked, waiting for 
no replies to the inquiries. 

Ugh ! Might. Shan’t try. None broke 
— all ought to be. Hark ! Worse ’an a 
rodeo.” 

There seemed pandemonium in the pit. 
Leaving their own horses at freedom or for the 
girls to hold, the three lads had leaped down 


300 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

again that they might set the struggling ani- 
mals at liberty, when they would, doubtless, 
get themselves up to the higher ground. But 
the twelve floundering legs and the four sharp 
horns endangered the rescuers themselves, and 
their shrieks of warning mingled with their 
commands to the imprisoned beasts well nigh 
rivaled the din of the half-hour before. Pres- 
ently, there was a mighty struggle of Luther’s 
horse, and the boys scrambled to safety, whither 
the sagacious animal instantly followed them. 

Not so the oxen. They had exhausted all 
their ambition in running away and noAV re- 
mained inert and stupid as only oxen could 
be. At which Luther, now rising and peer- 
ing at them, shook his flst threateningly, 
crying : 

You would, would you ? Now stay there. 
Ruther you would ’an not,” and having 
thus relieved his mind relapsed into his cus- 
tomary silence. 

Then he sat down and let events shape 
themselves. What thoughts ran through his 
mind at that moment are better not transcribed. 
Sufficient to say that he called himself all 
kinds of names, and affirmed that he didn’t 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 301 

care a continental ” about anything or any- 
body in this world. 

The young people held a brief consultation, 
and in a few words the Californians explained 
that they were staying at the Rancho Soledad 
— rightly named Solitude, since it was the ex- 
tremest one of that unsettled interior. That 
it belonged to their aunt. Dona Monica Juarez, 
the widowed sister of Jose’s father and Vin- 
cente’s mother. That she was one of the 
proudest of the old Californians and also the 
most independent and respected. That she 
was a woman of great piety and exacted the 
best behavior from all connected with her 
rancho, which was an immense estate, worth 
— nobody could even guess how much. That 
hearing fresh rumors of the “ Squad of Ten,” 
the lads had left the house of Senor Pico, to 
which they had first retreated after leaving 
their companions, and had come to Soledad. 

The boys declared that the first thing now 
to be done was to ride back to the rancho and 
secure help. Vincente himself volunteered 
to remain with Luther and the imprisoned 
oxen, while Jose would escort Roland and the 
girls to his aunt’s house. There they should 


302 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

rest and repair before proceeding — if proceed 
they still intended to do. 

Why, it’s like a story out of a book, our 
finding you like this, dear Jose ! or rather, 
your finding us ! We should have been in 
trouble, indeed, if you hadn’t appeared. And 
oh ! I have so much to tell you ! So many 
things have happened, and not the strangest 
is that Juanita here is now our ^ commander ’ 
and is leading us straight to our father,” cried 
Polly, joyously. 

The meeting with their comrades had added 
to the confidence she already felt ; that now 
they were indeed fast approaching a happy 
end of their long journey. 

Jose was not so sanguine, yet it was not his 
nature to spoil anybody’s pleasure, and he 
listened with so much of sympathy that the 
girl was freshly encouraged. Juanita was 
silent, as usual, but her face was peaceful, 
even cheerful ; and altogether the incident of 
Luther’s breakdown had not seriously de- 
pressed anybody except himself. 

Whatever hesitation the strangers may have 
felt at imposing themselves upon Senora 
Juarez’ hospitality was quickly banished by 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 303 

her cordial reception of them. Indeed, their 
coming to her isolated home was a delightful 
break in the monotony of her life which, 
save for its being such a busy one, would have 
been extremely lonely. 

Visitors were rare at Soledad, yet there were 
many chambers always in readiness for the 
possible guests, and for the maintenance of 
her large household of servants her larders 
were full as those of some great hostelry. 

The family had finished their last meal of 
the day hours earlier, yet, almost before the 
young gringos had washed and freshened 
themselves, a bountiful supper was spread for 
them, in which both their hostess and Jose 
joined, he laughingly declaring that he was 
always hungry, and she with a delicate cour- 
tesy which would not permit the guests to sup 
alone, lest they should feel themselves to be 
causing trouble. Even Juanita was now a 
sharer of Polly’s meals, though her humility 
made her partake of them sitting a little apart 
— “ below the salt ” — as it were. 

Then came rest; Polly complaining some- 
what of the enforced delay in their journey, 
yet determined to make the most of the de- 


304 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

lightfully inviting bed, with its wonderful 
lace trimmings. 

I’m almost afraid to touch them,” she 
laughed. 

Then with one of her far away, exalted 
looks, J uanita replied : 

‘‘ Ere we sleep again we shall know — what 
is to know. Between now and another moon- 
rise will come the end. En verdad. I be- 
hold it.” 

Had not Polly been so healthfully tired and 
sleepy she might have been startled by the 
other’s rapt expression. As it was, for that 
moment, nothing seemed to matter so much 
as a chance to shut her eyes and forget every- 
thing. Juanita was often seeing visions, and 
most of them came true. That this one now 
foretold would be a happy one agreed with 
the little gringo’s own sentiment and — she 
needn’t stay awake to think about it a — 
minute — longer ! With a delicious long 
drawn sigh of content, her head sank into 
the soft pillows, and that was all she knew 
for many hours. 

When she awoke much had been settled. 
The broken wagon had been hauled to the 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 305 

outbuildings and pronounced by the resident 
blacksmith as unfit even for repair. The 
hilarious oxen had been so subdued by their 
own wildness that Luther eagerly pre- 
sented them to anybody who would take 
them. 

Stupids. Never again, he remarked. 

Turn them loose. What^s a pair more or 
less ? demanded Vincente, on behalf of Tia 
Monica. 

At this juncture, while the ganan stood 
perplexed and speculative, Roland led Jua- 
nita forward, saying : 

Our little ^ commander ^ has a word on 
this subject. She declares we shall need no 
wagon nor could we use one if we had. The 
road on the guide-arrows crosses a stream, a 
river, now swollen by the melting snows of 
the mountains. We couldn’t get a wagon 
through it. It’s doubtful if we can get 
through it ourselves. Eh ? Is that right, 
Nita?” 

“ En verdad. Si. Behold. Upon our 
window ledge when the sun rose lay this 
other arrow. It is the fifth,” she added, 
counting her brown finger tips in confirma- 


3o6 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

tion of her words. “ And see ? All who 
look will understand ! 

They crowded around her, the lads most 
interested, and the stranger vaqueros craning 
their necks while she pointed to the extreme 
end of the drawing on this last, polished 
shaft. There was a wavering line which 
might signify a river and there were the 
same hieroglyphics which had heretofore 
been translated as ^^trees.’^ 

'‘We are to cross a river into a forest. 
Then we have reached our goal. Is that 
it, Nita?’' 

“ Si. Senor Pancoast. In truth. But the 

flood — that troubles me, I know not ” 

“ It doesn’t trouble me,” said a clear, 
strong feminine voice. “ When so many 
difficulties have been overcome why fear 
a muddy river? I will manage the flood.” 

It was Dona Monica who spoke, standing 
close behind the group, and appearing so 
queenly of bearing that it seemed perfectly 
natural she should be able to “ manage the 
flood ” as she asserted. 

Exchanging a few words with one of her 
men she walked away beside him, inviting 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 307 

her guests to accompany her, and leading the 
way to the threshing ground, or hora. This 
was a circular piece of land, made smooth 
and hard by water beaten into it, and en- 
closed by a tight fence. A large quantity of 
the newly harvested grain had been placed in 
the hora and four manadas of wild mares 
turned in upon it — a hundred of the animals 
in all. Three vaqueros, mounted upon 
powerful horses, drove the mares round 
and round upon the grain, shouting and 
urging them on till they grew dizzy. Then 
the motion was reversed, the mares driven 
the other way, and these operations kept 
up until the grain was threshed from the 
chaff. 

To the eagerly observant Polly, the primi- 
tive method was wonderfully interesting and 
she was ready, as usual, with her many ques- 
tions had not something in her hostess^ 
manner made her pause to see what next. 
Indeed, Doha Monica would have been sur- 
prised that anybody should be ignorant of 
California customs, and she had other things 
on hand. 

The gringos already knew that a manada 


3o8 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

meant a band of twenty-five wild mares, 
under custody or leadership of a stallion, 
who captained his company with military 
precision. While the companies toiled the 
four-footed captains waited in a near-by 
corral ; but as soon as the labor was accom- 
plished the animals were set free and im- 
mediately each stallion took command of his 
own manada and led it to its own pasture. 
Each band kept to itself, and if any mingling 
was attempted a fierce equine battle soon 
settled matters. 

The vaquero whom Senora Juarez had 
consulted now ordered the threshing stopped, 
and a messenger was dispatched to Luther 
to have everything he wished to carry with 
him in readiness within the next half-hour. 
Then the manadas and their captains were 
let out of the hora and all driven away to- 
ward a point where trees showed there must 
be fiowing water. 

The hostess and her guests, as well as her 
nephews, followed the herd of horses, though 
leisurely and at their ease ; the lady asking 
the gringos about their own country with as 
much surprise and eagerness as they felt 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 309 

about hers. Also, concerning their father, 
she was sympathetic and hopeful. 

Of a surety, you will find him and at 
once. I have lived among the Indians all 
my life and though there are evil ones there 
are also good. The writing on the arrows — 
you may trust it. If there should be trouble, 
you have but to fire the guns and Be- 

hold ! the red men vanish. They love not 
the powder, they. Si. En verdad ; and they 
are like the coyotes — brave only when un- 
seen, as a rule. As a rule, I say, for there 
are noble exceptions ; ” and here she laid a 
gentle touch upon Juanita^s shoulder, who 
blushed and swept the lady a graceful curtsey. 

The ground now sloped suddenly down into 
a valley and a sound of rushing water, louder 
even than the tramping of the many hoofs, 
told them they had reached the “ flood.” A 
moment later they beheld it, and Polly’s heart 
sank. It was a madly raging torrent she be- 
held, and how could anybody cross it ? 

Turning she looked into the equally dis- 
mayed face of Luther, who had quietly ridden 
up on a fresh and powerful horse. His own 
of the day before, though but little used, was 


310 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

injured by his fall and was to be left behind. 
For Roland and the girls were their own, sad- 
dled and waiting — but with as light a harness 
as possible. There, too, were Vincente and 
Jose, who were not to be left out of any ad- 
venture going, and Polly’s spirits rose. They 
were smiling and unconcerned as if perfectly 
sure that their wise Tia Monica could conquer 
any obstacle which presented — even this one 
of Nature’s. 

Hark ! The vaqueros’ shouts were deafen- 
ing now ! The manadas and their captains 
were being marshaled into a line, as it were, 
and — into the rushing water ! Recoiling, at 
first, the vaqueros — who did not hesitate for 
an instant to do what they desired the 
manadas to do — compelled the creatures to 
press forward through the fiood, which seemed 
to part and give way before this concerted 
onrush. 

Why ! the river seems astonished at their 
impudence ! See ! It actually recoils upon 
itself — as if asking : ^ How dare you ? ’ ” cried 
Polly, from her saddle, into which she had 
been promptly swung. 

The mass of horses had won to the other 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 31 1 

side, the vaqueros, riding above and below the 
struggling bands, preventing them from being 
forced down stream or out of the ford. 

Now, from the further bank back they 
came ! the bed of the river already flattened 
and hardened by their many hoofs ; and with 
fresh shoutings and goadings, on this hither 
side, were once more formed into the wedge-like 
mass which would best stay the water’s rush. 

Red Sea ! ” murmured Luther, with gap- 
ing mouth and staring eyes. ‘‘America. 
Must be. United States.” 

“ Now, ready ! Adios ! Adios, all ! ” cried 
Senora Juarez, clapping her hands in signal. 
“ Together — now ! ” 

Once more, for the third time and toward 
the further bank, the four manadas dashed ; 
and close behind them, side by side, followed 
the six riders of the searching party. 

Polly closed her eyes and let her pony guide 
himself, or be guided by his close pressing 
neighbor on either side ; for Roland had seen 
to it that her position in the rank was, with 
Juanita’s, at the protected centre. 

“ Viva I ” “ Hooray ! ” “ The Star-Span- 
gled Banner ! ” “ Viva ! viva ! ” 


312 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

The calico pony quivered through all its 
muscles, drew a deep breath, and shook itself, 
as if in joining in the shouts which announced 
arrival on the bank, safe and practically dry. 

Then Polly opened her eyes, heard the 
manadas already retreating to their home and 
the mingled remarks of her companions on 
their exciting passage. Also she felt a light 
touch on her arm and realized that Juanita 
was directing her gaze toward a point in the 
bordering forest. 

Rubbing her eyes, to see more clearly that 
which they beheld but refused to credit, she 
saw in the dim distance a figure strangely 
familiar, yet since it was discovered then and 
there, also awe-inspiring. 

Standing beside a fallen tree trunk, with 
bowed and cowl-covered head, calmly await- 
ing their approach was a brown-robed friar. 

Who, and from whence, was he ? 


CHAPTER XVII 


HOW IT ALL CAME EIGHT 

Within a rude shelter which was half dug- 
out, half tepee, a man lay upon his bed of 
boughs watching a certain point of the tree- 
shaded entrance. When the sunshine touched 
that point he knew that it was midday. At 
midday another man would come, would 
thrust an earthen jar of water and a small 
quantity of food within the opening, and 
would go away again. But not till he had 
paused to put one unvarying question and re- 
ceive one unvarying answer. 

After that, nothing would happen except 
the occasional visit of some woodland creature, 
curious to see what other sort of creature this 
was that lay so still and for so long in one 
dark place. None of these visitors had 
offered harm to the prostrate man, not even a 
wildcat which, being itself a coward, he had 
managed to frighten away by cries and thrusts 
of a broken stick. 

313 


314 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

The man had one companion, without 
which he believed he should have died or 
gone mad. This was a beautiful red squirrel, 
that had been wounded even as the man had 
been, and had crept into the hut to find that 
silence and secrecy which all hurt wildings 
crave. Instead, it had found the man, who 
cared for it and cured it, shared his coarse 
food with it, and won its close affection. It 
was safe now, cuddled within the blanket 
beside its friend and waiting for that division 
of the day’s food which always followed its 
midday appearance. 

The division was scrupulously exact and 
the squirrel’s portion was eaten with better 
appetite than the other’s. 

This day the division was delayed. Both 
the human being on the bed and his keen- 
eared housemate knew that the bringer of the 
food still lingered outside ; and until he was 
gone both were on guard and watchful. After 
a little time, a shadow blotted out the ray of 
sunshine and again the question was repeated : 

Will you tell?” 

“ I will not ! I’ll die sooner ! ” 

The voice which at first had gruffly hurled 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 315 

these words at the tormentor had now, after 
all these weeks, grown weak and thread-like, 
but had lost none of its decision. 

“ Then die ! I return no more. You and 
your secret perish together. I am the last 
left in this rancheria and I, too, now depart. 
For to-morrow’s bread look to yourself. 
Adios.” 

The mockery of the farewell elicited nothing 
but a contemptuous smile from the hearer and 
now, more noisily than in ordinary, Maro, 
the Hawk, strode away through the forest, 
leaped into his canoe and vanished down the 
river : vanished to his own death, it may be, 
since he was never seen again. 

It was Captain Hiram Pancoast, owner and 
supercargo of the good ship Columbia, who 
lay thus in the most dilapidated hut of the 
deserted rancheria from which, because of 
their depredations, the general in command 
at Yerba Buena had banished its Indian in- 
habitants. Theirs was the tribe to which 
Maro, the Hawk, belonged ; and the rancheria 
had been his most frequent residence, if resi- 
dence a person can be said to possess whose 
life is spent in the saddle, and who knows not 


3i6 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

from one night to the next where he will 
sleep. 

Always upon the fleetest horses, obtained 
only he knew how, this evil father of the 
gentle Juanita had flashed, as it were, from 
end to end of California, leaving destruction 
behind him. He was all the more dangerous 
because that he was, also, ‘‘ educated,’^ and 
had been at the Mission, where he was reared 
the brilliant protege of its padre. The good 
man had hoped to make a tribal missionary 
of his pupil, but had been bitterly disap- 
pointed ; and it was now because of loyalty to 
the confidence of this same priest that Captain 
Pancoast lay disabled and, perhaps, dying in 
an isolated dug-out. 

But evil does not always prosper ; and at 
about the same time when Doha Monica’s 
manadas returned to their interrupted thresh- 
ing, Maro’s light craft passed by the point 
where those had landed who were to frustrate 
all his schemes. 

As the two girls stared at the distant cleric 
the others of their party rode up, and Roland 
inquired : “ What do you see ? ” 

“ A holy man. At least, he wears the garb 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 317 

of such,’^ answered Polly, unwittingly hitting 
upon the fact of the case. “ I^m not afraid 
of the padres, meet them where I may, even 
in this deserted wilderness ; and, who knows? 
Possibly, the poor creature is in need of help. 
See! He just stands still. He doesn’t go on. 
He seems to be — he is waiting for us. Let’s 
hurry to him I ” 

Urging her pony forward as fast as it was 
possible to do over that rough forest trail, she 
gained the side of the motionless friar and 
saluted him with the familiar, respectful : 

Buen’ dias, padre 1 ” of the Californians. 

There was no answer in words and there 
needed none, for the pretended priest tossed 
aside his cowl and, instead of the emaciated 
features and shaven head of the real Francis- 
can, revealed the countenance of Francisco, 
the Indian. 

“ Fran — cis — co 1 What does this mean ? ” 
half-shrieked, half-gasped the astonished little 
gringo. 

He did not answer, but looked fixedly at 
Juanita, who seemed to understand his glance 
to mean that he would speak with her apart. 
Well, he was her own kin, the blood brother 


3i8 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

of her mother, and though influenced for ill 
by Maro, her father, yet — they were in his 
power ! In a flash she realized this and the 
wisdom of agreeing to any reasonable demand 
he might make. Besides, she was still in the 
company of these brave white faces who would 
not see her harmed. Therefore, she motioned 
the others to remain where they were while 
she went forward a little and heard in private 
what Francisco had to say. 

The conference did not last long ; and when 
Nita returned from it her face was radiant 
with happiness. Riding once more to Polly’s 
side she raised her clasped hands toward 
heaven and exclaimed : 

Gracias a Dios ! It is the end — and it is 
good ! Si. En verdad. Come.” 

Francisco was already striding forward at 
the swift pace of those who have been reared 
in the open, and owing to the undergrowth 
which hindered them, his followers could only 
keep him in sight, and that with difficulty. 
And now, strangely enough, it was Juanita 
who talked, while chatterbox Polly listened 
like one in a dream. 

'' It was because of the kindness on the great 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 319 

ship, that Mary Ann, he does it. Because, 
too, he is of the same race as my mother, 
Juana, and of the family of chiefs. Maro, the 
Hawk, he feared, but tried to dissuade of the 
uprising. From Maro, he learned what now 
is. Oh ! but this day is good ! This day 
there is no cloud over the sun ! This day in 
that happy land where she now dwells, does 
the slain Juana look down and bless her child, 
and, because of this good deed he does, bless 
also the son of her mother, Francisco beyond ! 
On, on, on ! ’’ 

She held them all rapt by her own exalta- 
tion of spirit, and thrilling with alternate hope 
and fear, the young gringos rode after her, 
speechless, but straining ear and eye for what- 
ever might appear. 

When the forest grew less dense and they 
arrived at the deserted rancheria Francisco 
paused, and pointing toward a certain dwell- 
ing awaited what discovery they should make 
within. At the first glimpse it seemed impos- 
sible to all that there should be anything left 
alive in such a weed-grown desolate spot, 
where was nothing but ruin and decay. The 
disappointment was in proportion to the 


320 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

former expectation, and Roland was convinced 
that Francisco had brought them to this place 
but to show them where Captain Pancoast had 
died. With a groan he dropped his head on 
his breast and covered his eyes with his 
hands. 

Not so Polly. Her faith in the goodness of 
God was too strong. What this desolation and 
that pointing hand of old Francisco meant she 
did not understand, but she meant to follow 
its direction. It must mean happiness. It 
should mean nothing else. She would prove 
it Oh ! she must, she must ! 

Slipping from her saddle, and by a gesture 
restraining the others from following, she sped 
over the weedy spaces till she reached the 
branch-screened tepee and saw the fresh foot- 
prints about. Somebody had been there that 
very day. A broken blossom newly withered 
told that. Somebody who might be within, 
who might be — her father ! 

The thought was a prayer in itself, and part- 
ing the branches she passed within. Another 
instant and she was on her knees, stroking a 
dear gray head, clasping thin hands which had 
once been so strong, bedewing with her tears 



FATHER! FATHER! WAKE UP! I’VE COME 



POLLY, THE GRINGO 321 

and kisses a beloved face that she knew, though 
now so sadly changed. 

“ Father ! Father ! Wake up ! IVe come ! 
I — Polly ! Father — father ! ” 

The sleeper moved, but did not open his 
eyes, and a bright-eyed squirrel darted from 
somewhere about his person, gazed at this un- 
known intruder, and vanished into the forest 
from whence it had come. Its work was 
done. 

Frightened because he did not at once re- 
spond to her, Polly again touched her lips to 
her father's forehead, but lightly, daintily, as 
if now afraid to wake him ; and at length 
aroused, he murmured, drowsily : 

Enough, greedy bunny. You had your 
share ; ” then suddenly opened his eyes and — 
could not believe what they revealed. 

‘ ‘ Pol-ly ! My — little — daughter — Marga- 
ret ! ” he gasped. 

Yes, father, darling father ! Your own 
loving, naughty, runaway, bad little Polly, 
from Eock Acre farm, Woodley township. 
State of Maine ! Followed you all around 
two oceans and away up the length of this 
big, wonderful California and found you at 


322 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

last ! Never to leave you nor let you out of my 

sight again Never, never, never I And 

Roland — Roland is here 

Here he was, indeed, putting his sister 
hastily aside while he, too, bent over the 
prostrate man and added his caresses to 
hers, nor was ashamed of them, even if he 
were a man who should not be demon- 
strative. 

Others, also, came crowding : faces familiar 
yet long grown unfamiliar ; Santa Rosa faces, 
Woodley faces — his children The emo- 
tion was too great for the wasted frame to bear, 
and again the once stalwart seaman’s eyes 
closed in an overpowering faintness. 

Clear out. Give him air. Water! Water, 
somebody 1 Quick 1 ” ordered Luther, per- 
emptorily taking charge of affairs and banish- 
ing everybody from the overcrowded hut. 

It was Polly who caught up the earthen 
jar, now empty, and ran with it to a stream 
near by, where the water babbled over a shal- 
low bottom and caught itself in a little pool 
where the sparkling fluid had cooled to an icy 
depth. There she filled her jar, and there, 
half-consciously, because they were so pretty, 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 323 

grasped a handful of the shining pebbles and 
sped back to her father’s side. 

The faint had been but temporary, and the 
fresh air which Luther had forced into the 
hut, by tearing away the obstructing branches 
and using one as a broom to stir the stagnant 
atmosphere, had already restored his patient. 
So that it was a perfectly sane and compre- 
hending person who smiled upon his daughter, 
entering, drank eagerly of the water she held 
to his lips, yet fixed a searching glance upon 
the pebbles in her hand. Instantly, surprise 
at her presence in California gave place to a 
newer and absorbing amazement. Catching 
the stones away, he held them up to the light, 
scrutinized them afresh, and almost shouted : 

It’s true ! It’s true ! There is gold in 
California, and my Polly has found it ! ” 

They thought he was delirious : and it was 
not until his tale was told that they under- 
stood ; and then the wonder of the truth so 
held them that they could only murmur over 
and over the words which he reiterated : 

What the padre said is true. There is 
GOLD in California, and Polly, the gringo, 
has found it I ” 


324 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

At length there came from Luther a prodig- 
ious groan. Also the characteristic and pa- 
triotic observation : “ United States must have 
it!’’ 

Polly cared nothing for the gold. She 
cared only to hear how her father came 
to be just there and in such plight : and 
by degrees, after he had eaten of the fine 
tortillas which the ever-hungry Jose pro- 
duced from his pocket, he was able to tell 
them. As usual, rumor had been both cor- 
rect and incorrect in its reports about him. 
He had left Yerba Buena at the time every- 
body expected him to do, in order to keep his 
business engagements at various points along 
the coast. He had spent the last night with 
the padre of the Mission Dolores and had by 
him been entrusted with a very large sum of 
money, to be conveyed to a certain rancho 
whose owner contemplated a trip to Spain. 
The money was intended for the purchase of 
a chime of bells and rich ecclesiastical furni- 
ture, suitable for the most important Mission 
church in this new Hispania-California. He 
had, also, been made the confidant of a secret 
— namely : that there was gold to be dug out 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 325 

of the native hills, and where it was to be 
found. This secret he had sacredly promised 
never to divulge, until such time as it might 
be discovered by others. Indians had brought 
occasional nuggets to the padre, who fearing 
the effect of their discovery upon them had 
worked upon their ignorance and superstition 
by assuring them that if they themselves 
delved for the precious metal they and theirs 
would be accursed. 

And so, in truth, they would be. Gold 
used for aught but good is its own curse, and 
in the hands of these wild children of mine 
would work miseries untold. A few beads, a 
little knowledge of good and evil, a steady 
leading toward heaven, as much innocent 
happiness and as little pain as may be — that 
is the plan of the good Dios for His red- 
skinned children/^ concluded the padre, 
sincere in his own convictions. 

Alas ! Sitting at leisure in the cool of the 
day and making these confidences to the 
gringo Captain who had proved so true a 
friend, the padre had not reckoned upon his 
unglazed windows nor the listening ears of a 

spy- 


326 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

But the spy was there ; Maro, the Hawk ; 
observant of the comings and goings of this 
el Capitan who had of his own self not only 
much money but stores of such things as 
an ambitious chieftain likes. Horses? The 
caponera of Captain Pancoast was the finest 
ever ridden out of Yerba Buena. Accoutre- 
ments ? were they not priceless ? Cloths and 
blankets, and those strange long weapons 
which were noisier than arrows and more 
fatal. Others, his brothers of the tribe, 
feared the new weapons ; but not Maro, the 
Hawk. 

When the Captain rode away on his trip, 
it was not the vaquero he had engaged who 
rode with him to manage the horses. An- 
other had been substituted in his place. 
Also, at a lonely point upon the road, 
vaquero and horses disappeared into the 
wilderness, leaving him at the mercy of who- 
ever might wish him ill. 

Realizing treachery and seeing that at any 
hazard, he must place in the possession of the 
ranchero for whom it was designed the 
churchly wealth he carried in his saddle- 
bags, he pushed forward across country and 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 327 

arrived in time. Disposing of his dangerous 
trust, and his Yankee pluck inspiring him, 
back he rode to the scene of his servant’s 
disappearance and there — an arrow struck 
him. 

The shot had not killed him, but it had 
made him unable to move ; and gradually 
losing consciousness for a time, he had 
awakened in the deserted hut of Maro, the 
Hawk, and had lain there helpless ever 
since. 

“ It has seemed as if half my life had 
passed since that day ; and not once has 
some red-skinned villain failed to ask me : 
^ Where is the padre’s money ? and where is 
the money in the ground ? ’ and always I 
have answered : ^ I will not tell.’ Like most 
such avaricious creatures Maro has over- 
reached himself. He was, also, too cautious 
with his greed ; else, he would sooner have 
stopped me on my solitary ride to the 
ranchero, or he would have bethought him 
of the cross-trail I took. But, no ! He sup- 
posed that a gringo learns nothing from this 
California save foolhardiness. As for that 
other^ — the gold in the ground. Was it not 


328 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

here, beside his own rancheria, in the very 
stream from which he drank, that that 
which he coveted lay ? And Polly has found 
it ! My Polly 1 But — found it for naught. 
The oath, the promise which binds the father 
also binds the child. Binds all who are 
here. I have given my word. All who love 
me must add theirs to it. Then — I guess, 
we’d better go home. Home ! I wish it 
might be to Woodley township this very 
night ! I’d hunt up Lysander Griffin and 
get him to go a-fishin’. I feel like a boy 
again, and I say, Luther Dowie, gringo your- 
self, how do you think Lysander would like 
to fish in Polly’s stream ? ” 

“ First-rate. Will, too. United States, 
yet.” 

Wherein the gahan proved a better prophet 
than he knew, for among the first Argo- 
nauts ” who came to California seeking gold, 
in the years which followed, was Polly’s 
fellow townsman, the thrifty deacon. 

Meanwhile, Juanita had obeyed a signal 
of the ganan’s and opened his saddle-bags ; 
wherein she found such a store of eatables 
that soon a substantial dinner was spread 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 329 

outside the hut, where the ground was 
promptly cleared of rubbish and where the 
shade was deepest. Willing hands make 
light work,’’ and were ever hands so willing 
as these? 

Vincente and Jose themselves carried the 
Captain out into the beneficent fresh air 
which he had longed for and that seemed at 
once to renew his vigor, though happiness 
aided, also, in swiftly restoring his strength ; 
and while all gathered around him, plying 
him with the daintiest morsels and with 
draughts from the wonderful gold-bearing 
stream, they gave the solemn promise he 
exacted to keep the padre’s secret — till the 
right time came for its revealing. There, too, 
all that had as yet been unexplained was 
made clear. 

After the dispersement of his followers from 
this rancheria Maro had returned to it bringing 
the wounded Captain and a few Indians whom 
he could depend upon to carry out his will. 
This had been done to keep his victim alive 
till time and suffering had forced him to re- 
veal where he had hidden the padre’s gold and 
that other secret ” which Maro had not fully 


330 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

understood. He would never believe but that 
his prisoner had kept this wealth for himself 
and was convinced that he had buried it some- 
where, during his lonely ride across the coun- 
try. Whenever Maro was absent from his 
village, some other Indian conveyed the scanty 
portion of food and the jar of water to the sick 
man’s hut, propounded the inquiry he had 
been taught to utter in a parrot-like manner, 
and receive the reply. Had that reply ever 
been different and in accord with Maro’s 
wishes, that person would have been instantly 
notified by the swiftest messenger ; but, at last, 
wearying of their lonely idleness, the few con- 
genial spirits he had kept about him had 
openly revolted and deserted. Then he, too, 
as recorded, paid his last visit to his victim 
and disappeared. 

But Francisco ? How happens it that 
you have come to wear the habit of a padre ? 
Was it you who shot all those arrows ? Did 
you ever mean to hurt me with them ? Was 
it you who did the— the hieroglyphics ? and 
how long have you known this about my 
father, where he was and how to find him ? ” 
cried Polly, going to the sailor, who sat apart 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 331 

silent, and taking no part in anything they 
did. 

Polly ! Polly ! You’re a regular Yankee 
for questions ! ” warned Roland, shaking his 
finger at her. 

But she was not dissuaded. Heaping Fran- 
cisco’s hands with food she motioned Juanita 
to her side, and it was the latter who gained, 
by signs and glances in good part, the infor- 
mation everybody wished and Polly de- 
manded. 

Her old shipmate ” of the Mary Ann 
had been astonished at finding her a member 
of the Santa Rosa household, for having left 
the schooner as soon as it touched port, he had 
not learned what became of the little passen- 
ger. In time he had heard of the search for 
the over-due Captain, and from words Maro 
had dropped guessed of his whereabouts. He 
had verified these words by a visit to the 
rancheria, had himself viewed the prisoner 
through the doorway of the hut, and had re- 
turned south. There he found the search- 
party setting out and had followed it to the 
end. He had chosen to do this in his own 
mysterious way and had guided it by the 


332 POLLY, THE GRINGO 

painted arrows, each of which he had dis- 
charged from some undiscovered point. 

Further than this, he had reflected that, 
since the outbreak at San Diego, the sight of 
an Indian would arouse fear in the gringos^ 
minds, but that of a priest would inspire a cor- 
responding confldence. Therefore, he had 
“ borrowed ’’ — how he would not disclose — 
the habit of a friar, and would return it when 
its mission was accomplished. 

He is sorry for many things, and he would 
some good still do. Hear me — of this his 
plan, I speak. Among the trees beside the 
river we forded lie many canoes, left by their 
makers to decay. We are to carry el Capitan 
thither upon his blanket and in safety all re- 
cross the stormy water. The horses may swim 
— or drown. Who cares? At the Rancho 
Soledad the sick man will lie and grow 
strong, then follow his own will to go else- 
where. 

“ The arrow that palsied and did not kill 
was tipped with a poison which Francisco can 
cure. Of a gre^t medicine-man he learned 
this herb and in this forest we reenter it grows 
abundant. If the cure he concludes, then of 


POLLY, THE GRINGO 333 

the good Dios and the kind gringos will there 
not be pardon for Francisco — for the red man, 
blood brother of Juana? Is it so? We 
listen. Let the little sehorita speak.” 

Oh ! yes, yes, yes ! That is fine — fine — 
fine ! Let Francisco keep his promise and we 
will forgive every red man in the world, for 
any wrong thing ever done, even your poor 
father, Nita dear — even Maro, the Hawk ! ” 


THE END 


I 


STORIES FORo GIRLS 


BETTY WALES, FRESHMAN. By Margaret 
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STORIES FORj, GIRLS 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS. By Mrs. Carrie L. 

Marshall. Illustrated by Ida Waugh. Two girls, thrown 
upon their own resources, are obliged to “ prove up ” their 
homestead claim. This would be no very serious matter 
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THK GIRL RANCHKRS. By Mrs. Carrie L. 
Marshall. , Illustrated by Ida Waugh. A story of life 
on a sheep ranch in Montana. The dangers and difficult- 
ies incident to such a life are vividly pictured, and the 
interest in the story is enhanced by the fact that the 
ranch is managed almost entirely by two young girls. 
By their energy and pluck, coupled with courage, kind- 
ness, and unselfishness, they succeed in disarming the 
animosity of the neighboring cattle ranchers, and their 
enterprise eventually results successfully. 

IN DOUBLET AND HOSE. By Lucy Foster 
Madison. Illustrated by Clyde 0. Deland. A story of 
the time of Queen Elizabeth. The heroine and her family 
favor the claims of Mary of Scotland to England’s throne. 
During a visit of Elizabeth to the home of the heroine’s 
parents, the queen becomes displeased, and as a punish- 
ment, orders the girl to attend her at Court. Her advent- 
ures there and the incidents which lead to her confinement 
in the Tower of London, her escape therefrom, and final 
restoration to favor with the great Queen, form a most 
interesting narrative. 

CLOTH BINDING ILLUSTRATED EACH, $1.25 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

923 cARCH STREET PHILADELPHIA 



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